Suck it up, Montreal - the Grand Prix brings its carn-ival back to town
by Bill Brownstein, The Gazette
Oh, joy! Oh, bliss! The Grand Prix is back in town. For now.
So, too, are all the old, familiar squeals and smells attendant to the big race on Sunday - and that's just the well-heeled Euro-wanks who will be cruising our bars and boulevards this weekend.
Sure, many Montrealers may snicker, but after a year's absence, we can hold our collective breath for a few days and allow our visitors to fill city coffers again. It has oft been stated that the economic spinoff from this F1 revelry borders somewhere around $75 million.
Who knows? But we do know that our hotels, restaurants and pubs will be packed, that those who follow the boys in their fast toys will be spending inflated amounts for their suites and foie gras and champers. According to some downtown barkeeps, a day of Grand Prix spending is the equivalent to that of a month in Montreal - provided that month is January.
Most Montrealers don't begrudge those who will profit from the Grand Prix. What we do resent is being held at the mercy - some may see it as more akin to a hostage situation - of F1 baron Bernie Ecclestone, a man whose cravings for cash and control seem to know no bounds. A man who may not be beyond pulling the plug on the race in the near-future if the mood strikes him.
But enough about Bernie.
One of the great ironies about the Grand Prix is that for all the fuss we have made about getting it back again, many Montrealers prefer to take it in from a distance. Like hundreds of kilometres away. It's understandable.
The Grand Prix is no one's notion of a Sunday picnic. It can take hours to gain access to Circuit Gilles Villeneuve on le Notre Dame and hours to get out again - unless you've got a buddy with a helicopter or you're a crack swimmer.
As for the race itself, the noise is excruciating. The stench of the fuel is nauseating. The heat is often unbearable. Necks get strained trying to follow the speck-like vehicles from the stands as they whiz around at dizzying speeds. And tummies get strained when excessive libations are at play.
And, oh yeah, it ain't exactly cheap entertainment at track-side.
But what is most scary about the Grand Prix is not the race or the well-oiled denizens it attracts. Rather, it's your basic homegrown bozo with a driver's licence in a vehicle not to be confused with those doing hairpin turns on the Gilles Villeneuve circuit. For reasons that have much to do with his libido, our bozo feels compelled to pretend he can corner or pass just like Jenson Button this weekend on the DÈcarie Expressway. From out of nowhere, the bozo will land on your tail - doing about 180 kilometres an hour - and flash his high-beams, flick his middle digit and honk incessantly, before slipping into the right lane, maybe even on the shoulder of the highway, narrowly averting collision with cars in the inside lane. Beware.
On the plus side, for those who can't escape, the Grand Prix is a gawker's fest. This year, as in years gone by, there will be much patter and speculation as to which celebs will show up to dine and shmooze at high-end eateries on the Main and in Old Montreal.ÝÝ There will be much buzz around Ben Affleck, George Clooney, David Letterman, Leonardo DiCaprio, Paris Hilton, Jim Carrey, Nicolas Cage, Samuel L. Jackson, John Travolta, Kiefer Sutherland, Tommy Lee, Tom Cruise and squeeze, Katie Holmes. Some of whom have actually shown up for past races.
No word yet about Robert De Niro, who took in festivities with his dog Fluffy while making a movie here a few years back.
But Mickey Rourke, in town on a film shoot, will doubtless be around - although after catching him on the track in Monaco in Iron Man 2, we can only pray no one gives him a Ferrari to whip around in on the track.
For all the banter, though, the Grand Prix spinoff is, in fact, much more than economic. It's also about the emotional well-being of a city given up for spiritually and financially dead not that long ago. Montrealers have had to deal with losing everything from our baseball team to bank head-offices.
So get some earplugs if you must, suck it up and try to enjoy this car-nival. If nothing else, it is surreal and also about as close as Montreal gets to having its own Mardi Gras. Plus, it does herald the beginning of our endless summer here in Festival City.
http://www.montrealgazette.com/spor...n-grand-prix/Suck+Montreal/3139597/story.html