Valentine's Day in Mexico...or Southern Italy Part 1

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Note: This is the first part in a multi-part series. The series contains several totally ridiculous events from THE SAME DAY.

1) I awake from my sweet slumber at 9:30, and leave the house at 9:54 to make sure I'm on time for my 10:30 class. I meet my friend Holly at the bus stop, chit-chat, and climb onto the bus already full of commuters ready for what's sure to be a slothful and unrewarding day of work. As I stumble (by now, the bus has started moving) to the back half of the bus, I realize with slowly mounting dread that all 8 of the double seats in the back contain one lethargic high-school boy, all greased up and apparently waiting for a young, foreign girl to infuriate and mentally molest. There is one single seat available, of course in front of them all, and I take it as Holly heads to the standing room at the very rear. Although I might as well be deaf to these quick-talking, slang-slinging, black-wearing idiots, I immediately insert my iPod earbuds to confirm the fact that no, surprisingly enough, I have no desire whatsoever to make conversation of any sort with them. Nevertheless, as soon as my already-aggravated muscles started to relax, there was a tap on my shoulder and rapid French in my unresponsive ear. I understood the word

boyfriend

and some ardent finger-pointing that went along with it. Oh, this guy is saying his friend is my boyfriend. Right, okay. I look angrily at my new boyfriend, pleadingly at Holly, and then interestedly out the window. Tapping, staring, talking, taunting, and mimicking pursued. Levels were heightened when it became obvious I was an American (thanks to Holly).
Immediately, I started brainstorming. I've noticed recently that in my French classes have prepared me well to hold a conversation about history, society, space, and technology, but I am at a total loss when I actually need to express a need, especially a need for help. I was on my own for this one. I narrowed my choices to the following:

At the end of the bus ride, if they followed to harrass me, I would turn around and do one of the following:
a) Ask them if they spoke English. If yes, I would say,

If you don't leave me the FUCK alone I'm going to call my President and he'll come bomb the SHIT out of your stupid, punk ass!!!

b) Elbow one in the face. (Much more powerful if their face is actually in the place where your elbow is supposed to be in the bus, which it was.)
c) Discover that I happened to have a blow-dart gun in my purse. Pull it out to discover that I was actually a champion blow-darter. Coat a dart in a poison that stings and temporarily paralyzes, and blow it into the penis/nutsack area of my

boyfriend

.
d) Say

Find another Valentine, bitches!!!

after each of these scenarios.

Fortunately, I was left alone to walk to the Metro stop... UNTIL...
see the next installment!

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