Cracktown.

“They must really like you.” Thanks cabby. That’s definitely what I want to hear at 5:30am on my way out to an Edmonton layover.

Of course, I am once again called out on a flight at 4:30am, but as I am told time and time again, I shouldn’t be expecting anything more than that, seeing that I AM categorized as the most junior, and henceforth holding absolutely no entitlement to anything other than the crappiest flights.

This is my life. I started working as a flight attendant for an unnamed company approximately 2 months ago. It kind of dropped into my lap, I applied not really thinking anything of it, but only that maybe it would be a nice opportunity to get travel perks, allowing me to travel the world (a definite dream of mine). I realize that I started this post off on a rather negative note, but in all honesty getting called for a flight in the middle of the night is the worse part of the whole sh-bang. I get to fly all over the world to shop (as I did at West Edmonton Mall this past layover), and I get to see the world at the same time.

This is hopefully just a venue for me to share some of my adventures with whomever wishes to spend some time here.

So: Cracktown. I have since my layover deemed Edmonton as such. I had never been there before; the extent of my knowledge of the city was that it housed one of the largest shopping malls in North America. Of course, being a shopper, upon arrival in the city I requested the company of my colleagues in an adventure to the mall. The “shopper” of the two decided to shop with me. We ended up spending almost 6 hours at the mall (my excuse is the sheer size of the mall itself). Unfortunately for us, we were so absorbed in the shopping that we forgot to check the bus schedule for the way home. By the time I realized that I should check it, the last express bus had already departed — we were going to have to take the normal bus.

Our hotel was downtown; one would expect the downtown area of any city to be bustling with activity and people. You know, the general “downtown buzz”. Not the case here. It was a ghost town. I think I saw maybe 3 people on the street the entire time I was there (and yes, I was there to experience enough of a day to say this with confidence). So there we were, on the bus home from the mall. This was where it all went downhill. Almost everyone that boarded was either high on drugs or just a little slow in relation to the rest of the world. There were people talking to themselves, talking to random other people, to the people they were with (but not allowing the other person to speak to them in return). There were mothers who ignored their possessed babies, and friends discussing the unnecessary locking up of dumpsters (which refrained them from going into them “after hours”). My colleague was so irritated that she put on her ipod at maximum volume and tried to block everyone out for the rest of the ride. I on the other hand did not have a choice but to continue to do some forced people-watching. The entire ride my only thoughts were “I really hope we make it back to the hotel before the sun sets because who knows what can happen to us if we were to walk around in the streets of downtown Cracktown at night.”

So a piece of advice to all those who are looking to visit Edmonton: don’t do it unless you have to, there’s nothing there anyways (except spend your money at a gigantic mall which has the same stores that you can find at any other metropolitan city in North America).