We live in dangerous times. With advances in technology our world has become smaller, and… We live in dangerous times. With advances in technology our world has become smaller, and people are more accessible. The Internet connects people all over the world, and while this has some benefits – Campusfood.com – many problems have arisen. I recently almost experienced such a problem.

It started when I attempted to use my new Visa card. I recently activated the card via the 1-800 number given to me in the letter affixed to my shiny, orange, magic-money disk. But, to my horror, a message came up that sent my life spiraling into a chasm of fear: This card has been deactivated. How? I thought that the card was new.

That’s when I felt the worst of fears. Had someone stolen my identity? Was I going to start talking like a teenage girl who wanted to buy many things at the mall, or an old trucker who wants new mud flaps and a “Git R Done” window sticker? You know, like in those commercials.

What was even worse about having my identity stolen was that absolutely nothing cool happened.

At no point did I discover that the man who had stolen my identity had moved in with my family, convinced my wife that he was actually me, and was using my job in the Pentagon to take control of the White House so that he and the Russians could take over the world.

At no point did I have a gunfight on a boat with John Travolta or Nicholas Cage.

It was never revealed to me that I am not actually me, but instead a clone of me that had been created for the purposes of organ harvesting in the event that the real me should ever succumb to any ailments that would threaten his life, thus showing me that my real life was not in fact a real life, but instead some strange virtual reality.

Arnold Schwarzenegger never blew anything up.

There was never a moment when I discovered that the man who had stolen my identity was someone named Spencer, who actually turned out to be one of my seven multiple personalities complete with his own job and a family in Wisconsin.

The killer never turned out to be me.

Matt Damon didn’t delete my life from the database.

At no point did the hot chick,who I thought wanted my body, turn out to be the girlfriend of the head of an evil secret organization that was hell bent on ruining my life and keeping a long-hidden truth from being revealed to the general public.

None of this happened.

Instead, I called PNC Bank and asked them why my card had been deactivated. The guy didn’t believe me at first. He assumed I was merely an incapable customer with slop for a brain and the mind capacity of a goat-human hybrid. Once he saw that I was right, he pushed a few buttons and reactivated my card. The problem was so minor that I don’t even think my identity was actually stolen.

Although I can never prove that someone – man or clone – didn’t try.

The point is, no matter how cool the media makes identity theft look, please don’t be fooled. There is nothing glorious or glamorous about it. Nothing exploded and no one was shot. I didn’t seduce the supporting female role or the villainous female role.

I had always thought that having my identity stolen might be cool. Fun perhaps. Kind of like the way they make it look cool to play basketball with a dog in “Air Bud” which I can assure you is not nearly as fun as it looks.

I was fooled by the media into thinking something that is not cool at all was actually something that would kick ass. So there are two lessons to learn here: don’t trust the media and monitor your bank accounts daily.

Even though I safely avoided identity theft this time, the next time I may not be so lucky. And, as I’ve discovered, I won’t get to exact my revenge on the evildoer that wants the $40 dollars in my bank account, but instead I will have to sit on my phone and listen to a patronizing guy who truly believes that I am incapable of using an ATM. And unfortunately, he isn’t even part of an organization bent on dominating the world. E-mail Josh at [email protected] if you want to steal his identity. It might be cool.