As fall break rapidly approached last semester, my friends and I were faced with the single greatest recurring struggle of our generation: where to spend those four precious days of freedom. Most of us could simply go home, sure, but where was the fun in that? Montreal promised an international adventure, a foreign language and a discount drinking age of 18. So we loaded our bags into the spacious trunk of my VW Beetle and set off toward the City of Saints. A note: the streets of Montreal were not meant for easy driving.