I actually wrote down this story for another friend. This is a true story about a friend from high school. Since its a little bit more involved than the Greatest Lie story I'll leave his name removed. But I'm sure any one who has heard this story will recognize the main character. But it definitely makes for a good story. And I had fun writing it down.

A Journey to Montreal

So I used to know this guy in high school. He was always a little out there. A little weird. But a goofball. Funny for funny's sake. Whether this was his real personality or the one he put out there I never knew. But it was high school. I didn't care. He made me laugh and that was all. We were friends.

He was a year younger than me and after I graduated I really did not see him often. Sure we had many of the same friends, but never hung out at the same time. Whether he was actually there in some larger gatherings or not I can not say. But I did hear stories about him.

I heard about how he always tagged along on trips, but never paid for anything. Nor did he ever seem to have his own money for those trips. He would take stupid dares to try and get money for spending. I remember a story where he tried to drink a gallon of milk in a half hour without throwing up (he threw up). In another he swam across a murky disgusting pond even though it was ridiculously cold and disgusting. Like I said, I wasn't there for these events but I heard about them. Maybe I have the story wrong for these one, but that's how I remember it being told to me.

One story I heard was more bizarre than any other. I never really had it confirmed in person, but from what I've heard it must be true. The way it starts is with this guy driving to Montreal on a whim all by himself. He gets himself a hotel room and proceeds to go out boozing. This isn't his first time in Montreal, he's been there with friends many times for random trips or concerts; but tonight he's all alone.

After a significant amount of time dedicated strictly to getting drunk, he has a brilliant and overpowering idea. He hails a cab and hops in. It is in this cab that he first reveals his idea to the outside world. "Take me to where the prostitutes are," he tells the cabbie.

The cabbie drives to a street that has prostitutes and my friend makes his pick. They get back into the cab when his plan hits a snag. Instead of going back to the hotel he tells the cabbie "Find me the nearest ATM." The cabbie complies. My friend leaves the cab driver and the prostitute of his choice in the cab and goes up to the ATM. This is where his mind starts churning again.

"What the hell am I doing?" he thinks. He's not this lowlife kind of a guy. He gets his money from the ATM and then starts running down the street away from an angry cab driver and a screaming prostitute. He heads back to the bar to celebrate his good decision making abilities.

But the story doesn't end here. After another hour or so of drinking he starts thinking of the prostitute again. Not of her in particular, but of the idea. And he hails another cab and again says "Take me to where the prostitutes are."

Once again he appears on that fateful street looking for a prostitute, when he bumps into the same on from earlier in the evening. She immediately starts yelling at him for leaving her in the cab. She extolls him on how she had to pay his fare and the return fare. She goes on about how much of an ass he is. But my friend can't take this. Not in his state. Obviously, to him, she is the one in the wrong. "We're all human," he says, "people make mistakes and can change their mind."

The details from this point are lost to history. But rumor has it that there was quite a screaming match, and that either a) none of the prostitutes would go with him after witnessing it or b) he decided it wasn't worth the hassle. None-the-less he went back to the hotel alone and the next day returned to our home town.