I UNDERSTAND JUST ENOUGH TO RAISE MY ANXIETY LEVEL

Spanish,I mean.The overwhelming numbers of "non english speaking laborers" on this job is overwhelming me.It's a stressful enough environment as it is,add into the mix obvious comments about the white guys that you partially understand and the hard hats they wear decorated with proclamations to mexican and honduran gangs and it makes for a very long 8 or 10 or 12 hours.
They are decidedly not polite,in fact,it seems they go out of their way to block our egress as we attempt to navigate between projects.I may end up shiving one of these fucks with my sheet rock saw before it's over.The 11th floor reeks of urine...they can't even ride down to the toilet...cups and bottles lurk in corners filled with what can only be human waste.
There are bundles of rancid discarded food,partially wrapped in foil in other corners.It's like working at a high rise landfill,on the 11th floor anyway.
On the other hand...I may just be being a pussy.I like working with my crew and my tool buddy,and our foreman is cool,but god damn...I forget what country I'm in sometimes...oh...never mind,scratch that.
This isn't a country anymore,it's a swirling black hole of confusion from top to bottom.