A Drug-Fueled Nightmare Behind a Curtain of Safety in Montréal
Like all great stories, this one begins on a dark and stormy night in the winter of 2023 in Montréal. It would’ve been the perfect time to stay inside and hibernate, but craving an adventure, two friends consumed a concoction of substances and set off into the streets of Montréal. 
Before I continue sharing our story and our slow descent into madness, it’s important to note that the following is entirely true. I recorded many of these details immediately after, but two other witnesses can also corroborate these events. Good luck finding them, though, even I would struggle to reach them now.
I’ve often admired the very thin line between participant and observer, as renowned journalist Hunter S. Thompson clearly explains it:
“Journalism is just another drug – a free ride to scenes I’d probably miss if I stayed straight.”
That night, I discovered he was right.
Prior to that fateful night, I had put the city of Montréal on a pedestal above the rest of North America; it was cleaner, safer, and all around more civilized. Of course, there were still crimes: Assaults in seedy nightclubs, carjackings, and the occasional arson.
Reporting from Global News showed that despite Montréal being one of the safest cities in North America, petty theft increased significantly in 2023. Additionally hate crimes reached 353, a record high. This trend has seemingly gotten even worse as inflation continues to impact the city.
These numbers felt distant to me until the middle of the night in the pouring rain, when I realized anybody could be impacted, anybody could become a victim.
Roughly 11:30 PM
That night had started the same as any other with smoking and laughter, but before long, the topic shifted to my friend’s upcoming departure from the city that had introduced us. He wanted to experience something real before leaving. That’s when we remembered there were two tabs of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, also known as LSD, sitting in the freezer.
As if two tabs weren’t enough for the three people, we layered in psilocybin mushrooms, marijuana, and a drink or two to wash it down.
Then, as the early effects began, we went out into the night. The freezing rain hit like needles through our winter jackets, and the streetlights fractured, but we were unfazed. In the end, it gave us the energy to continue on.
N,N-Dimethyltryptamine known as DMT, is a substance that already exists in all of our brains and is believed to be tied to our dreams. According to psychedelic research, drugs like LSD, Psilocybin, and Marijuana can activate DMT in our brains, potentially causing visual effects, spiritual experiences, and a detachment from reality.
And we had just mixed three of these substances together.
Each time we tripped in this group, we planned to climb Mont Royal summit for its view of the city’s skyline, but alas, we never made it to the top in the end. This time was no different, as when we reached the Grand Staircase of Mont Royal, it was a sheet of ice, completely frozen over, making it impossible to ascend.
As the water began dripping down our backs, we made a final decision, and we changed course and began walking towards Montréal’s downtown.
1:00 AM
We stopped under the awning of a hotel to share a smoke and get a break from the rain. There were a couple of people lingering in the lobby, and they eyed us suspiciously. Three men on psychedelics, holding a glass marijuana pipe, which in poor lighting, may resemble a crack pipe.
By the time the pipe went out, the streets were flooded with flashing blue lights as three SPVM cruisers pulled up in front of the hotel. We froze, trying to imagine an alibi for the substances we were still in possession of.
“Surely they have something better to do” I remember thinking.
Then, in a second, we took action. I emptied the ash from the pipe onto the ground, then put it in my pocket. We left the cover of the awning, crossed back through the hotel courtyard, crossed back over the short urban bridge, and walked right past the three police cars.
3:00 AM
We continued walking until reaching a familiar intersection, but it looked a little different at this hour.
At this time, and in these weather conditions, we should’ve known there was no one level-headed outside. After all, neither were we. Shapes faded into the next, and faces popped out of the shadows.
Men who looked down on their luck stood on both sides of the street, their expressions blurred in the rain. Suddenly, as we crossed the street, one of them looked straight at us and our eyes met. That was our first offense, it seemed.
“Are you with a clan?” he asked us, his eyes wild, his voice filled with accusation.
I understood clan to mean gang, and in a second imagined a scenario where two groups on each side of the road were two gangs facing off, and we were caught in the middle. The more likely and more ominous reality is that it was a single gang, and we were the only ones out of place.
We answered no and continued on, breaking off eye contact. After about a block and a half, it became undeniably clear he was following us… and he wasn’t alone.
It also became clear that whatever substance he was on made our acid look like aspirin. While he was visibly shaking with emotion, mostly anger directed at us, his friend seemed calm and collected. He was even trying to calm his friend down, which I was grateful for, but they didn’t stop.
It continued like this for at least three blocks, rain still pouring down.
In the light of day, and all things being equal, I would’ve liked our chances. We outnumbered them, and one of my friends had combat training experience, but at his direction, we decided to evade them instead.
All things are never, however, and anything could happen at 3:00 AM in Montreal. “They could have anything in their pocket, a knife, anything, you never know,” My friend told me. Certainly, something was giving him this confidence.
So instead, we increased our distance between them and us. We returned to familiar streets and cut through side alleys. It was like a game of cat and mouse, but with much more at stake. Eventually, we disappeared into the night.
5:30 AM
Finally, the night was coming to an end, and it was time to return home. My friend and I had planned to take an Uber, but suddenly the price more than tripled. The STM had opened simultaneously, causing a spike in Uber’s Surge Pricing.
Surge pricing is intended to keep a balanced model when drivers are busy, but it can become unreasonably high in times of high traffic. According to reporting from CTV News, one couple had to pay as much as $625 for 40 Km ride, and was considering legal action.
We decided to take the Métro despite our exhaustion. After a short ride, I climbed the steps out of the metro, once again being introduced to the frigid yet oddly refreshing air. The rain had stopped now, and I was just a 20-minute walk from being reunited with my bed.
My legs felt like they had sandbags attached to them as I trudged up the snow-covered hill I had walked up hundreds of times before.
That’s when I saw it, about two blocks ahead of me, a man walking closely behind a woman. He was short and hobbled along, but he still maintained pace with her.
As I continued watching, it became clear not only that he was following her but also that she was also aware of this and was rightfully afraid. As if two confirm this, she glanced back at least twice to monitor his progress.
Using my last bit of energy, I picked up pace and kept trudging along.
I watched as the man began to shift in shape, another wave of LSD was hitting my brain. In a second, he lost all humanity he had seen a woman passing just instinctively began following like an animal stalking its prey.
His body shifted, first into something resembling a humanoid animal, and for a second, his face shifted into the half wolf, half alligator face of Set from Egyptian mythology, the god of chaos. Then his body continued to convulse and he began to shift into the shape of a question mark as he crept sideways through snow.
I kept telling myself if I keep up this pace, I will continue closing the gap and be able to intervene if anything happens. I was still a block behind. Then she crossed to the other side of the road and away from my reach. Sure enough, the man followed.
I realized I would have to act now or never. What my friend had told me earlier in the night echoed through my mind. “They could have anything… a knife, you never know”.
Then, I was saved by the bell. The woman had found a group of men working on the other side of the street. As she spoke with them, the man following her just shuffled along past, and a weight lifted off of my chest.
As my adrenaline wore off, I walked the final block home in silence, I had for the first time seen the other, darker side of Montréal. I went home and finally I went to sleep.
Looking back now it feels like a dream but this all happened. The facts of the case remind us that our perception of safety and security are just that, perceptions, shaped by our experiences. We think we won’t be the ones targeted, or if we do the police will sweep in to save the day, but none of that matters at 3:00 AM in the rain.
By Gonzzo
