No music this way.

A flight debacle on Saturday meant I didn't arrive in Montreal until Day 1 of the Osheaga Festival was almost over, meaning the closest I got to Parc Jean-Drapeau was texts from my Coast cohort Holly (summary: THE NATIONAL!).

The festival is easily accessible by subway, and if you can make it through the pre-gate gauntlet without taking on a fistful of fliers or signing up for military service, a quick check of your bag gets you in in mere minutes. (Unlike most fests, Osheaga is cool with you bringing outside food and water, though I did end up eating pizza in a cone for five bucks later in the day, along with towels, blankets and chairs.) Armed with sunglasses and a dumb hat, I forged ahead into a 10-hour music day.

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