It was in a line at La Victoria’s for a late night burrito where I saw you. I was surrounded by scantily clad college girls and cologne-doused dudes, all partaking in loud, drunken cacophony. Waiting with these people was a hellish experience and I considered leaving, but then I saw you. A large man with a formidable gut, you had just finished your meal too fast and would soon pay the price. I watched you grip your stomach as the rumble started. But rather than falter, you took a look at the crowd … and smirked. As you made your way through the mass of hungry drunks, I watched an expression of relief pass over your face. I was out of the blast zone, but I could see your work in the wave of silence and disgust that followed. I will forever remember your deeds that day, you duster of crops, you silent but deadly hero.
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 [email protected], or send to 380 S. First St, San Jose, 95113. Submissions should stick to about 100 words.
