I asked an old gentleman at the door for the number to a taxi company and he had non. Right as I was asking him if he had the equivalent of the yellow pages – in broken Spanish – he ran to the gates gesturing me to follow him. He whistled to cab and it whished past him. He then gestured for me to run to the other side. So, I’m basically running around the large museum buildings after this old man who is yelling things in Spanish. By this time a group of boys and men have gathered on the museum steps and are whistling and laughing at me while I am running after the old guy.
From my experiences, at this point people become almost as psychotic as Michael Douglas does in the movie Falling Down when he goes on murderous rampage because of road rage. I remember a woman who after being stuck in the same spot for 30 minutes around the exit 160 kept her car horn pressed down for 10 minute intervals for an hour…which just caused everyone else’s road rage to bubble over and created a yelling/honking brawl.
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