So these fucking kids, there are actually about 8 of them, are sitting on the back of a packed B-line yesterday heading to 3rd beach. My first thought was that they were from Surrey, the city I grew up in. There were just so many signifiers: their shitty nu-metal goatees, ratty skate shoes, drinking a 2 litre of Brisk iced tea probably mixed with vodka (!!!?), wrap-around fake Oakleys (Foakleys as we used to call them. Clever, right?), their general suburban kid obnoxiousness (loud and swearing every two words), and then finally, one dude pulled out his cell phone and started blasting ‘Santeria’ by Sublime. They all started singing along at the top of their lungs. Natch.

I turned off my music for a moment to catch a conversation about how awesome one guy was at Guitar Hero and something about them all graduating from North Surrey Secondary. Hizzuh! I was right.

It’s like they don’t have parents. Feral children of the suburbs. Raised on Jolt cola, pizza pops and playstation.