You and your husband were making your way onto the plane and I saw my future in 40 years. Faces serious and determined, steps hobbled and measured, white knuckling bags that couldn’t have weighed more than a sack of groceries. My parents taught me to respect my elders, so I offered to help put your bag in the overhead bin. But when I reached over you gave me a look that said I might not get that hand back. OK, lady. I get it. I’ll slow my roll. But seriously—what you got
in that bag?
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*****@*******ws.com, or send to 380 S. First St, San Jose, 95113. Submissions should stick to about 100 words.
