Ahh yes, The Windsor Ballet.
You know the big Vietnamese one furthest south, a block inward from the Lake? My French came in handy there...
There was also a Lakefront bar literally right where the lake made the left angle, that was an old garage with the double-doors and the fuel-pump podium, and the hippie who ran it would simply throw up the garage doors around 3pm when he woke up, and drag out 10 tables with 3 chairs each. Sometimes I would show up early and help him. Coldest, cheapest Labatt's on that side. That hippie was a great guy, we would shoot the shit for hours and I only paid for every other beer.
Canada was cool as cool gets in the late 80s and early 90s -- remember you only had to flash your driver's license to get across and back! I remember I had an empty box in the backseat one time and Canadian custom guy said, "Eh, what's in the box?" -- thinking I had cartons of cigarettes, right? And I flipped it over and it was empty, I had just moved to another apartment. "Oh empty, eh? Have a good day!". He wasn't even disappointed.