Last week I was in San Antonio, and I had very little free time, but when I did, here’s what I did:
- Visited the Alamo
- Had a drink
- Rode on the Riverwalk
- Ate some ice cream
- Had a drink
- Ate a baked potato the size of my face (Well, I put a decent dent in it.)
- Ate more ice cream
- Narrowly escaped with my life.
So as you can see, the majority of the week was pleasurable, but all it takes is one bad apple to spoil the bunch. (Why is this even a saying? Bananas come in bunches, not apples. Let’s change it.)
All it takes is one bad banana to blemish the bunch. (Much better. Plus…Alliteration!)
So Tuesday morning around 8:15, I’m walking from my hotel (the Hyatt) to the Convention Center, which is about 3 blocks.
3 blocks, people. And it’s not like I was in a bad area.
So there I was walking down the street, minding my own beeswax, when a guy walking the opposite way starts yelling at me.
You f*ing b*tch! You’re gonna f*ing look at me! <Insert other expletives here and repeat for about a minute.>
A minute may not seem like a long time, but when some crazy guy is yelling at you and you’re all alone, it’s a long fricking time.
So I turned my head slightly, not wanting to make eye contact, and I see that the guy has stopped on the street and is starting to walk towards me.
Somehow I managed to stop my bladder from releasing and ducked into the nearest Subway…and nearly had a heart attack. I don’t have a doctor’s confirmation on that, but I’m pretty sure it was a heart attack.
Needless to say, coworkers escorted me around San Antonio for the rest of the week. And that’s why I’m still alive to tell the tale. Phew!