Montréal – Rivière-des-Prairies Edition: Where Misdelivered Packages Are Community Property and Common Sense Went on Permanent Vacation

If you live in Rivière-des-Prairies (or anywhere in the Montréal east-end/suburbs), you already know the drill: a package landing on the wrong porch isn’t an error—it’s dinner. Or breakfast. Or a weekend snack haul. Doesn’t matter what’s inside.

Food delivery? Neighbor turns into an instant food critic, eating your pad thai like it’s a Michelin-star gift. Books, gadgets, clothes? Gone. Probably sitting in someone’s closet or on Marketplace tomorrow. Cookies, almond milk, random groceries? Straight farm-pig energy—rip open, devour, zero remorse.

They don’t check the name. They don’t read the apartment number. They don’t even glance at the label. The second that box hits THEIR porch, it’s legally binding community property. No knock on the right door. No quick walk to the post office. No “I’ll leave a note.” Just pure opportunism: see package → consume → shrug.

The men act like absolute clowns with the common sense of a rock. “It was at my door, bro—what was I supposed to do, walk 20 feet?” Yes. That’s literally what a functioning adult does. Instead they flex like they earned it, munching stolen fries while pretending it’s fate.

The women? Delusional on god-mode. Posting manifestation reels about “abundance flowing in” while literally manifesting someone else’s Uber Eats order. “The universe provides 🥰” — yeah, the universe provided MY sushi, not yours. Keep telling yourself it was meant to be, queen.

This isn’t rare bad luck. It’s the default in Rivière-des-Prairies. Drivers half-ass drops because routes are brutal → packages land wrong → residents treat it like a lottery win → drivers never retrieve → cycle of theft forever. Accountability? Non-existent. Decency? Took a permanent vacation.

Québec as a whole shrugs at problems, but Rivière-des-Prairies elevates it to animal-farm levels. Your name and full address on the box? Irrelevant. The porch line is the only jurisdiction that matters. If it lands there, it’s fair game. End of story.

So if you’re stuck in this neighborhood:

• FlexDelivery locker or post office pickup is the only semi-safe option.
• Never assume a neighbor will do the right thing—they won’t.
• Treat every misdelivery as permanently gone, eaten, or flipped for cash by morning.

Because in Rivière-des-Prairies, people aren’t just living in chaos—they’re thriving in it, snacking on stolen deliveries, and calling it everyday life. Québec east-end special: where common sense retired early, decency ghosted, and every wrong drop is just another free meal.

Porch pigs stay winning. Everyone else stays refreshing tracking. 🐷💀