Toronto strikes again

The moment I've been dreading all summer finally came: I got my cell phone bill from when I was in Italy. I hadn't thought it would be so bad, since after last year's debacle where I rang up over $200 worth of phone calls from Malta, I'd resolved to cool it with the international calls and use my phone merely as a way of checking in from abroad. But I was still a bit leery of getting hosed. And I did.

The lowest part of my bill? Phone calls from Italy to the States. It wasn't that bad, particularly since I'd taken special care to keep each call's length in the single digits.

The second highest part of my bill? Blasted text-messages. And here I thought I was being so sly and saving money by texting The Texan instead of calling him. Who'd have thought that international text messages would cost seven times as much as domestic ones? Well, anyone who'd bothered to check it out ahead of time, so clearly not me.

But once again, Toronto Airport reaches out and slaps me upside the head with the highest part of my bill being the roaming charges on calls placed while I was stuck there for seven hours. Goddamn you, you stupid fucking airport. As if shuffling around in airport hell after a trans-atlantic flight doesn't blow enough, I get reamed with these extra charges. And another thing: Why does Canada get the United States' international country code if it's going to be considered far enough away so that I get roaming charges? One or the other, folks. You can't have it both ways.