  Today I got shot and was proposed to. Okay, it was yesterday but you dont know the difference. So there I was, lost in the city. The only white chick alone for miles. So theres this guy, hes standing on the street corner, holding a crutch in his left hand, cigarette in the right, and I wonder what would happen if I went up and asked him where the medical center was. I gather all the racial stereotypes pittering about my head and toss them into the corner of my mind. He turns out to be um, normal? well at least for awhile. I was dismayed that only half of his words were actually understandable. He offered (I think) to walk me there. So we walked. I asked him why he was carrying a crutch around, I think he said something about his.ankle?
Apple?? First one makes more sense. So finally, (and thankfully) we came upon the medical center where I thanked him kindly for his generous help, wished him well, gave my name and tried to shake his hand whereby he asks me for a quarter so he can call me. Well be friends, he suggests. At this, I begin to climb the steps, smiled kindly, wished him well, thanked him for his generous help.
He insists again I give him a quarter so we can be friends, a pretty girl like me he says, why..we could get married. Tempting, but no. I musnt. For I am already betrothed to another. I continue to climb the stairs, aware that the man may or may not be following me. I walk in the doors and find myself, faced with two options, entrance into a parking garage, or the elevator. Parking garages are where bad things happen to little girls like me, right? HmI guess the elevator? I try every floor but find myself every time in that parking garage surrounded by *less than* middle class, caucasian, suberbian characters. These are the times I wish I was a little less blonde, a little less white, a littleless female. Toto, were not in the Abercrombie anymore. A lady finally led me into the center of the parking garage (she looked a little surprised to see me walking around like that, took pity) and there was a little building, weird I think, and walk in.
To find yet more elevators, and no signs. Dammit! More people help me. (The advantage of looking helpless is that people will never suspect ME of anything *blink blink*) Finally I find the vaccination clinic. Im handed a mountain of forms to fill out; marital status, race, date of last period, like its something I write on my calendar?
Um, no. I just need you to stick needles in me to protect me from the bad Ecuador parasites, not keep track of my menstrual cycles thank-you-very-much. Big needles and band-aids and he told me they dont take credit cards and no they wont bill me. So Im off and running, debit card in hand, across the parking garage, my arms growing numb, down the elevator that smells like cat pee and stale Marlboros, across the parking lot, look behind me, round the corner, ATM machine, smacking myself for throwing away all that pepper spray my mom buys me every year, back across the parking lot, jump over a divider, back up the elevator, round the corner and .. AndnowIm invincible against all that typhoid stuff and junk. Invincible AND pretty! Woohoo! 
