None other than the legendary Zorro himself sat across from me on the train ride to school this morning. Granted, he didn't have the requisite face mask on, but he was wearing black spandex tights (yes, you read that correctly), black leather boots, the epic billowy button-up white collared shirt, and his dark shoulder-length hair was appropriately slicked back with about ten pounds of bear grease. Fortunately for me (in this case only), staring is a completely acceptable facet of Spanish culture because I couldn't stop blatantly looking and taking note of all the uncanny similarities. I'm sure it was Zorro. I mean, who else honestly dresses like that these days?
Anyway, I don't know what was playing on his iPod, but he insisted on tapping obnoxiously on the window with annoyingly no rhythmic sequence for the entire thirty plus minute train ride. I quickly got over being starstruck and seriously contemplated punching him in the face, but I was afraid he might whip out his cape and sword and consequently slash me to piecezzz. Ideally, I would like to make it out of this country alive, even though "Killed by Zorro in Spain" could make for a good story. Oh well. Maybe next time we'll have a window tapping duel and fight it out to the death. "Zorro Defeated By Amazing American Abroad" could make for a pretty decent headline too. Talk about legendary.