“Fuck you!” yelled the enraged half-naked man from across the dry creek, where he stood in front of his tent like the senile grumpy geezer of the neighborhood. He paused for 30 seconds and followed up with basic vulgar insults about how my girl is a whore and how my dog ain’t shit then made general threats about kicking my ass. I understand that life may have been hard on you, but I’m just walking my dog on this very public trail and talking to my wife about how good “Peanut Butter Falcon” was. We weren’t saying anything about you. And even if we were, there’s no way in hell you could have heard us from 30 feet away so why assume that we did and potentially start an altercation? A piece of me wanted to fire back some obscenities of my own. But it was such a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and I knew it wasn’t personal, so we strolled on. Sorry if we killed your buzz, but I hope that tall can you were holding was still half full so you could get it back.
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.
