The Montreal Pylon

Tides come in, tides come out. You can observe this act of nature. You can develop complex models to predict when and where it will happen. One thing you can’t do, however, is question why it happens. 

What is the point of the tides? It is simply the reality we live in. To ask the point is to grasp at the question of life itself.

This brings us to pylons. 

I know what some of you in the rest of Canada are thinking. There is a point to pylons. They symbolize some type of roadwork ahead. Caution must be taken. Divert your path or proceed carefully.

My brother, visiting from Ontario, once asked me, in reference to the pylons laid out at the end of my block after arriving at my apartment, “What work are they planning on doing?”

Oh brother, you gentle soul.

Of course, Montrealers know that pylons are an object void of meaning. They, like the tides, are naturally occurring phenomena. The pylon simply is.  

I, for one, am a pylon agnostic. I don’t believe in them. I have lived in Montreal for over four years now. Holding faith in pylons for that long would have adverse effects on your mental health. However, I do hold space for other people’s religious devotion. I will tolerate someone’s consideration, confusion, or desire to “do the right thing” when faced with the inevitable hodgepodge of conflicting detour signs and clear openings for ignoring them altogether.

My own actions are much different.

Agnosticism in pylons doesn't mean you don't acknowledge they exist physically. It would be foolish to do anything else. I can’t spend every commute ramming into pylons with my car or bike, or tripping over them on a stroll to the dep. But you must treat them as you would a recycling bin, a pothole in the road, or a fellow pedestrian on the sidewalk. They are there. You go around them. You do not ask what they want from you.

In other cities, a pylon is placed, a hole is dug, a pipe is repaired, and then the pylon is removed. In Montreal a pylon is born, it migrates, it loses its reflective collar, and eventually, if you are lucky, eventually, it vanishes. 

One sign says sidewalk closed. Another says detour. A third appears to be from a different year, possibly a different mayoral administration. The sidewalk itself is completely open, except for one pylon lying on its side like a dead horse. In a car, yes, you mostly have to obey them. The pylons are usually clustering just close enough together to enforce their will.

Again, I hear you, pylon believers living in the rest of Canada. With me weaving my bike through a maze of pylons, or Euro-stepping a blocked-off sidewalk, surely, I would eventually find myself in active roadwork.

Sure, roadwork might be happening. Tides come in, tides come out. I’m not a sailor.  I’m just a guy trying to get to work.