ast year, a friend and I had plans to break away to New York for the weekend. It seemed that at every turn, this trip simply wasn't meant to be. Getting from Kingston to Dorval for the flight involved awakening from a drunken stupor and pulling a running entrance onto the train. We finally got to the airport to find our plane had been delayed. Then delayed. Then delayed again. Eventually the pilots decided there was no way in hell they were flying through the ice pellets currently hailing from the sky. So we did what any young folks with nowhere to be would do…we put our names on the standby list. We ate stale peanuts from the magazine stand, hung out in the multi-faith prayer space, played on the indoor jungle gym, (much to the chagrin of a couple 4 year olds), then we camped out on the dirty floor of the airport. After not getting any proper rest for fear that our stuff would get stolen, then actually falling asleep from exhaustion, then waking up to discover that our sleeping bags hadn't kept us from lying directly on the wooden floor, with our heads on a hairy carpeted section, we were pissed. And the flight we were hoping to get on? It was full. So we headed into the city and I spent a depressed weekend in Montréal.

Now, why did I tell you that long winded story about a trip that wasn’t? Well, if I had taken that trip today, I would have been able to spend the night in a just opened, oh so stylish room at the aloft hotel at the Montréal airport, where a Dance Dance Revolution tournament or karaoke night would have lifted my spirits.