We are a noisy city. There, we said it.
We're not just talking exceptional times of the year when F1 has us breathing more trust fund exhaust than usual or when the South Shore complains about a Rammstein concert.
No, we're thinking about everyday noise: From tow trucks in the winter to the bells of unicycles, the corner of Prince Arthur and Saint-Laurent on an average Saturday night, and maybe even the birds they have to listen to when they're walking home at 6am. The railways passing through Saint-Henri and Pointe-Saint-Charles, anyone under flights coming to and from Montreal-Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport, and living along Décarie Boulevard.
We won't officially know if we're a noisy city until June this year, but a lot of us feel this way. Our raucous way of life that we often celebrate in this newsletter is the armpit hair in someone's poutine: NIMBYs have already brought about the closure of music venues and even restaurants, and lately we've started talking about killing off fireworks while that pesky REM passes too close to our condos.

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