Mont-Saint-Michel is one of those places. A revered attraction whose allure has been built for centuries and made all the more legendary because it requires some commitment to reach. It took me three trains and more than four hours to make it to this spot that had been lingering on my bucket list like an itch.
Teleporting Chinese tourists. Masturbating astronauts. Death by duct tape. Semen-filled puppets. Possible time travel. That one guy from Corner Gas. I was at a loss for words, and kept looking around to see if someone, anyone, was as confused and enraged as I was, but they were speechless in the face of True Art. I call bullshit.