Saturday, 6:20 am

Man on bus holds door for me getting off.

Me: Thank you.

Him: Damn, sexy.

Me: (to myself, oh shit)

Him: Hey, sexy, aren't you gonna talk to me?

Me: (just keep walking, Y, don't say anything, it'll only make him keep talking)

Him: What's wrong, you don' wanna talk with me, sexy? You one hot mamacita.

Me: (Jesus H. Christ on a bike, what is with these people?!)

Him: Uh huh, I see how ya are, you think you too good to talk to me, you think you too sexy for me to be yer papacita.

Finally, I'd had it. Not enough coffee in me to be patient and tolerant.

Me: No, I'm not going to talk to no fucking stranger on the street at 6:20 am!

Him: (stares at me, gaping mouth)

Me: What makes you think you can just walk up to some woman on the street at 6 Fucking 20 am and start harassing her, huh?

Him: (still gaping)

Me: Because you ARE harassing me. And I don't even speak Spanish, asshole!

Him: (trying to recover) But I need to talk to you, sexy.

Me: No, what you NEED to do is start walking away from me right now. Got it?

Him: But, but, but . . . sexy.

Me: Yeah, well this sexy ass is gonna yell to that cop up there if you don't get the fuck away from me RIGHT NOW. (Okay, so maybe it was really only a low rent security guard, but . . .)

Him: (walks away mumbling about white American bitches)

Just another morning on the way to the restaurant.

(Edited to say please excuse the poor grammar, but at 6 fucking 20 am and with very little caffeine and nicotine on board, colloquial cursing is about as good as it gets for me. I was lucky I was coherent at all, which I attribute to being very fucking pissed off.)