I will never set foot in Metrotown again. The crowds, the habitrail maze of overpriced stores, the noisy food courts, and the worst part of all, the tribes of HipHop Johnnys and their Hoochie brides. No part of Metrotown is free of these deficiencies. Yes, yes, every mall is annoying, but Metrotown seems to be in the running for some special award for being a Loser Magnet of Epic Proportions.
Perhaps I should explain the reason for my healthy, well-informed decision-making. Last month, my classmates celebrated the end of the term with some well-deserved Tim Horton’s, Nando’s and book shopping at said Crap Palace. It was never my favourite place, but the consensus compass pointed the way. We had some coffee, walked around; it was really kind of pleasant. Crowded and full of annoying persons as described above, but pleasant.
The next day, I realized I couldn’t find my beloved cell phone. I looked through pockets, purses, under newspapers, bah. I thought perhaps I had left it in Biscuit’s car. Not there either. The battery had been low when I last saw it, and when I tried to call my number, it went straight to voice mail. Probably lost and dead, I thought. Finally, I called to report the thing officially gone.
Flash forward to this week: I’ve got a new phone, all colourful, programmed with my numbers and ringtones. I receive my cell phone bill; there’s a long-distance charge for $7.98. Must be a mistake, I think; flippng to the call detail page. A 39 minute call was made to Grand Prairie, Alberta at 05:29 on Saturday April 8. Wait, when did I lose the phone? Friday, April 7. When did realize it was missing? About 10 am on Saturday. You bastard!
I look closer. There was a call made to Live Links (hi Ryan) and to some phone sex line called 1-800 Cal. Those calls weren’t charged to my phone, but ewwwww. They were also made apparently right after the phone must have been found. I feel so violated – little punk loser finds the phone and right away starts calling Dial-A-Ho and whoever the hell is in Grand Prairie, Alberta.
A bunch of calls were made to one particular number, so while still mad, I called it and demanded to know who had called them from my number. But it seemed I had gotten ahold of somebody’s grandma, who offered to ask her granddaughter (the punk’s girlfriend?) about it, but I was too steamed to talk rationally. I felt so bad about being a psycho to somebody’s grandma that I called back and aplogized to their answering machine. Guess I don’t have much stomach for vengeance.

So, what have I learned?

  1. Avoid Metrotown.
  2. If you lose your cell phone, call the company and have it blocked right away even if you think you know where it is.
  3. The stupid-looking losers probably are stupid-acting losers. And I thank my lucky stars that they’re probably small-timers. (The Fido guy commented I was lucky the punk didn’t make any international calls.)
  4. Karma is still on my side. The other day, I dropped a cheque for $200 on the SkyTrain and a nice man gave it right back to me. I also have a new cell phone with a better calling plan than I did before.

I’m sure Metrotown can get along without me. The loser shortage isn’t going to become a crisis anytime soon.

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