It all started as my dog and I waited for my boyfriend to make a quick beer run. I was leaning against the car with the passenger door open and my dog beside me. You approached from the liquor store with a wobbly, zigzagged gait to profess your love for me—if I translated your slurred mumbles correctly—and I loudly told you to get away from my car and to stop touching my dog. I couldn’t lock the door because the key was in the ignition and I didn’t want to turn my back because I was worried you’d push me inside. So I stood up straight and repeatedly shouted, “Bye. Bye! BYE!” It took what felt like an eternity, but you eventually stumbled away. I leaned into the cab, grabbed the keys from the ignition and marched toward the store to complain about you, but then my dog vomited, collapsed and shook violently, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. You had the gall to laugh at me when I collapsed in tears beside her. Thankfully, my dog recovered after a trip to the vet. But I’m never going back to that godforsaken corner store.
I Saw You is an anonymous “man on the street” column. Email your rants and raves about co-workers or any badly behaving citizens to
iS*****@me*******.com
, or send to 380 S. First St, San Jose, 95113. Submissions should stick to about 100 words.
