Bus Ride Home

**This post contains some topics that I wouldn't normally write about, but it is an actual experience that happened to me while traveling. So if you feel offended then you don't have to finish the post, but please come back.

On Saturday night my mother and I decided to attend a Mozart concert in Vienna. It was fun to dress up and take a little time to enjoy music, although it wasn't as good as the performance I saw the previous Sunday with my friend Mike! However, on the way back to our friend's house we had some rather unusual encounters. Each night we take the same route home and most evenings are uneventful. I don't know why Saturday had to be different.

After getting off the U-bahn (metro) we walked to our bus stop (35A). We had to wait about fifteen minutes for the next bus to arrive, since we just missed a bus. As we waited, sitting on an old wooden bench, a German man asked if we had a lighter (he asked in German). The lady next to us, whom gave him a light for his cigarette, told us that he was just in a fight and was very bloody on the back of his head. I hadn't noticed it, but I did get to see it later on in the bus.

A few minutes later a car pulled up and one of the guys jumped out of the car to ask for directions. Once again I had to tell him that I didn't speak German and I didn't know. After that car drove away, two other cars pulled up and stopped right in front of the bus stop. They stopped side by side, rolled down the windows and started talking/laughing/shouting at each other. I think it was all in good fun, but still it seemed very busy out on the town.

After all of that a man walked up in front of us and started to speak with us. He was well dressed in slacks, a sports jacket, sweater and collared shirt. He had dark colored skin with short curly hair and round glasses. In fact I thought he was a good looking man. I had noticed him the day before on the same bus route. Since I was sitting in a seat that faced the back of the bus I had noticed him sitting with another man (friend or family). It seemed to me that they were looking at me, but that could have just been my perception. I know I'm good looking, but I shouldn't be so presumptious, right? So every once and a while I would look up from my book to see if they were looking at me. I have a good memory for faces...so when he stepped in front of us on Saturday night I almost thought he might try to hit on me or something of that nature.

Once again he started to speak in German and I had to tell him that I did not know German. So he started in English. This is how the rest of the trip home panned out.

The Moroccan: Men go out and try to meet girls. And girls go out to try and meet men. But they go home alone and masturbate.

My mom: mouth drops and she chokes on her spit.

Me:mouth drops and I cautiously say "okay" as I glance over to the women standing next to me. She rolls her eyes.

The Moroccan: Where are you from?

Me: Washington, D.C.

(I should have said Canada. It may have changed the whole conversation)

The Moroccan: I am from Morocco. You know, people from the United States often say that Morocco is a third-world country. The United States and Britain like to label other countries as third-world just so they can feel good about being called a first-world country.

This is where I am thinking that he is an opinionated man and I can tell he is about to go off with his slant on what is wrong in the world. I should have walked away then, but I was intrigued and thought, because of the way that he was dressed (I know, it is stupid) that he would listen to my opinion as well.

The Moroccan: These first world countries have been domesticated and they cannot be sexual. In my country if you go out into the countryside you will find that people are sexual. But the United States isn't a place of sexuality because they watch pornography.

First, let me say, I hate when people generalize. How can anyone group a whole country of different people together into having the same opinions. I know that US citizens can be very ugly but I like to think I don't fall into that category. Second, I didn't quite understand what he was saying or where he was going with all this, another good sign that I should not have continued to listen to him.

The Moroccan: Most pornography comes from the United States, therefore most Americans are not sexual. You must recognize that as a domesticated country you are not able to be a sexual people.

Me: That is your opinion.

And seriously, how would he know. How does he know there is a lot of pornography from the United States unless he has watched them. Does that mean he isn't sexual? Didn't he just say that wasn't that case for the Moroccans?

The Moroccan: No. That is not my opinion. You think that way because you are coming from a domesticated country and you think you cannot agree with me because I come from a third-world country.

At this point the bus arrived so we got on and he followed us. In fact, he decided to sit beside us.

The Moroccan: I'm going to continue talking with you until you agree with me that your country is a domesticated country.

Great. Now I'm basically an animal and I'm being trained to think as a U.S. citizen. Oh, please, let me agree with you...I want to be a whooped puppy who is pulled by a leash and will listen to whatever I am told as long as I get a treat.

The Moroccan: I like to disturb people. I can disturb you.

Okay, honestly this should have been another sign that he might get loud and disruptive. I should have ignored him, but no, I thought I could be a good example and show that I am not intimidated by disturbing conversations. I thought I might even have a chance to show my spiritual side.

Me: You aren't disturbing me.

The Moroccan: Okay, so did you f**k today?

WHAT! DID HE SERIOUSLY JUST ASK ME THAT IN FRONT OF MY MOM? AND IN FRONT OF LOTS OF PEOPLE ON THIS BUS?

Me: Trying not to look shocked, I said, no.

The Moroccan: Did you f**k yesterday?

Me: No.

The Moroccan: Did you f**k last week?

Me: No.

Okay, so the answer will always be no, because I'm a virgin. But he was being so vulgar that I should not have even given him the benefit of an answer. I honestly don't know what I was thinking, but noq I was trapped on a bus and my stop was a long way off. I figured he would get tired of asking or the bus driver would stop him, because he was being loud.

He continued to ask vulgar questions, and they almost always included the F-word. Thankfully, two of my friends got on the bus (they are also members of my church). These two women were visiting from Paris with the same family that I was staying with. I was hoping for a distraction and this might have been the key. If not, then at least we had strength in numbers.

My mom and I started talking with our friends, the French girls.

Mom: How was your trip today?

The French girls: Oh, Budapest was wonderful. Thank you for all the information that you gave us.

Our simple conversation went on for a few minutes before the Moroccan jumped in.

The Moroccan: Where are you from?

The French girls: We are from Paris.

The Moroccan: I am trying to disrupt this girl (pointing to me). She doesn't have sexuality, and because she is American she doesn't f**k.

Great. So I know I'm a virgin, but seriously, sexuality is not my problem. I just prefer to wait until I'm married...my hormones are definitely ready!

As he continued to be disgusting my friends tried to quiet him down. They asked him to stop and said that he was being rude, but since that didn't seem to shut him up, we moved to the back of the bus. Of course he followed us and now we were sitting by him and the guy who had been in a fight earlier that night (remember he has blood dripping down the back of his head).

I finally figured out that I needed to ignore him to keep the vulgar language from coming out of his mouth. Yet he didn't stop from there.

The Moroccan: You Americans think that you are better, and that is why you choose not to respond to me. I have upset you.

One French girl: You aren't upsetting anyone, you are just drunk!

The Moroccan: I am drunk and I hate President Bush. You can go f**k President Bush.

Other French girl: Watch your language.

The Moroccan: F**k France.

Oh brother! Now he wants to talk about politics. Honestly, why me?! At this point he starting speaking in German with the bloodied man. Two stops later the bloodied man looked at me and said, "Have fun with President Bush." Oh, okay, since I support everything he does, because that is how every American feels!

I continued to look out the window and advised my mom to do the same. It pretty much kept the Moroccan quiet. My mom was worried that he was going to follow us. She wanted to talk with the bus driver. I reminded her that we were already sitting up at the front of the bus and no one helped us there either. I didn't think the bus driver was going to be much help while he was driving. So I suggested that we just wait until we got to the last stop, our stop, to see if he was still following us.

The Moroccan: Now I am happy, because I have upset you. I see that you have sad faces. The Austrians don't like Americans. You should go home.

How does he know what the Austrians think? He isn't even from Austria?

The Moroccan: I am glad that I have ruined your evening.

And then he got off at the next stop, which was right before our stop! What a crazy man. You know, he didn't ruin my evening. Oddly enough I didn't feel threatened by him. Maybe I should have. I was mostly curious why he chose to target me out of all the people waiting for the bus. And why that conversation about sex? I can understand that he didn't like Americans or President Bush, it's not like I don't watch the news. Most of the world feels that way. Was it because he had seen me before just like I had seen him? I don't know and I will never know.

He wasn't very open minded and he didn't have much respect for women either. It must be difficult to never be open minded. I know my life and viewpoints have been shaped by my environment; that is just basic physiology, but I hate when people cannot admit that they are shaped by their environment as well. Of course he would have a different way of looking at things then me. He is from a completely different country and most likely a completely different religious mindset as well.

Here is my spiritual slant on things. Clearly he was drunk, but I wonder what prompted the whole event. I have met people like him when I was a missionary. I feel bad for him. I enjoy my life and am grateful for my purity. The gospel has been a blessing in my life and I don't often encounter people like him, because of who I chose to associate with. Sadly, I felt as though I should have followed the Spirit better, because He would have helped me to be aware of the signs beforehand. Rather then be disturbed by the situation I think I will learn from it. Next time a man tries to talk with me, I will ignore him! Alas, we were safe and I am thankful for prayer.