In between these low-paying retail jobs, I did what any normal teenager did in the 1990s.
I shoplifted. I'm just kidding. I hung out with my friends at the mall.
Everyone's like, "Oh my God, what kind of talk is this?"
Hanging out at the mall could be fun, but it could be really lame, too,
like sharing a cigarette with a 40-year-old unemployed mall rat
who has put on black lipstick for the night while you're on your break from your crappy minimum wage job.
As I stand here today, Owings Mills has been gutted and it's ready for the wrecking ball.
The last time I was there, it was in the evening, and it was about three days before they closed the mall for good.
And you kind of felt -- they never announced the mall was closing,
but you had this sort of feeling, this ominous feeling, that something big was going to happen, like it was the end of the road.
It was a very creepy walk through the mall. Let me show you.