Last week, Anémone and I went for a drink in Ottawa. We wandered a little before going for the Highlander Pub.

I had never set a foot there, but of course I knew it was a Scottish pub.

I simply didn't expect for all the waiters to be wearing a kilt.
But, well, after you've walked in the streets of Edinburgh and seen a regular man walking with his girlfriend, his arm around her neck and wearing a kilt, kits don't quite surprise you as much.

I didn't expect the kilt-wearing waiter to card Anémone and I when we ordered a pitcher either, though.

And when I got up to use the restrooms, couldn't find them and asked another kilt-wearing waiter, I didn't expect him to speak to me in a Scottish accent.

And when I got back to the table, I didn't expect that another kilt-wearing waiter would try to convince as hard as he could Anémone and I to try haggis...

Yup, that was a weird night.