The Life and Times of a 6'10" White Guy in Mexico Day 3

I wake up, and I am so excited I almost piss myself. I am stoked because today I get to go to the Mexican ballet. I've been to Disney World. I've seen Jordan play. I have seen some of the most violent chick fights known to man. But nothing compares to the shear entertainment and beauty of the Mexican Folklore Ballet. My breakfast sucks just like every other breakfast, I would eat during my stay. But I don't care, Im going to the ballet. It might as well have been a donkey shit omelete, because it would have tasted fantastic no matter what it was. So we walk to the theater, which is only 2 blocks away from my house. I expect to see a huge line, but instead I see the USC group sitting down singing Elton John songs. This just doesn't seem right to me so I ask Bruce (the professor in charge of this trip) what the deal is? He tells me that the ballet is cancelled, but to me it sounds like he said Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Captain Kangaroo had been viciously murdered by terrorists. My lifelong dream of attending the Mexican Folklore Ballet had been crushed. So instead they take us to TlaquePlaque which is Mexico's largest free market of useless shit. I look at all this useless shit for 2 and a half hours and manage to buy some little ugly steel Don Quixote statue for 2 bucks and some flowers. So we go home, and I give the flowers to my mexican mom Mari because she has been really nice to me. No sooner than I display this potted plant, does this woman tackle me and start kissin my face all over exclaiming "Juani, Juani, muchas gracias." I spent the rest of the day walking around the neighborhood, trying to ponder how the fuck I got put in this situation. Why am I in this country?