Friday night, Mike and me Boy, you go to a place that is completely unknown and we called the Largo, in the lower city. It will take advantage of a coupon for two free appetizers. Once there, I remain stuck to the glass entrance. It is not Pantoute the type of place I expected. That's pretty classy, it looks like a posh restaurant for people who are only admitted if they have one (or maybe even) BMW. It's not where the evening goes up, besides a duo has just started to play jazz. We control rums and coke, it sucks them and we leave quickly. Where are we could find some action? While waiting to find, we went to the nearest convenience store to buy a six-pack of beer to make a background on the track of an interesting bar.
We walk up the Barberie. The place is paquetée bin steep, impossible to sit anywhere. It goes in the toilet to drink our second can of a series of three each. I start and then left my place in the toilets to Mike boy. I leave the precious liquid to swallow his pace and am going to wait at the entrance. Surprise: I come face to face with two police officers have been speaking to a server. Oh oh, I just committed a reprehensible act and boy Mike is in full offense. But since the police are right in front of me, I want to arouse their suspicions turned to the toilet. They'll really think I'll warn my boyfriend who snorts a line on the bowl or is currently conducting a transaction of crystal meth. I remain there, saying it would still be worth a chat to them to avoid one of them decides to go for a walk to the bathroom. Anyway, they're not alone: we fret too bad you know where to go. What's better than a policeman to know where to spend the evening?
I will tell the officer that I am not from here (true if one considers that the area is limited to the neighborhood) and we seek a place where there 's action. He is very friendly and suggested the boudoir. Mike Boy out of toilets and joins the discussion. Leaving the bar, we offer the police take us to the boudoir if we accept to sit on the bench with plastic on the back (it's a bench behind the plastic tanks police in any case, back of this car there was that). It's not super comfortable but it's very cool! We have a free taxi worse we live 5 minutes of feeling gangster who has just been picked up by the police without anxiety to have a criminal record. The police let us just ahead of the boudoir. One coat both because the police were great smatte and besides, we sat behind a police car for the first time in our lives. The proof is in the Quebec pork is really good!
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA lolllll!
Finally, no matter what happens in the rest of our evening, we just live peak. It's a bit flat by cons, because the night is young and we realize we can not help but already be on the downslope.
The rest of the evening was without very interesting story. The punch of the story without punch, it's my joke on Quebec pork. Wah ah, there's a guy hot in the boudoir that told me I was such as Ken, the boyfriend of Barbie. Wicked compliment I think, but the guy was so hot that ben not count. Pis the 2-3 girls who were not really talked to me the impression that I looked like Ken. Perhaps more to Kenny, the little boy who was skating without his legs.
But regardless, this story should be written to remember the night when I got lifter by the police.
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