There’s no telling how long she had been staring at me. The stoplight seemed to be lasting unusually long so it could have been several minutes. I could feel her eyes burning through the side of my head. When I glanced over I was greeted with a look of horror and disgust coming from a tiny woman, easily in her eighties, peering over the door of a giant mid–seventies Chrysler.

Granted, I was cramming the burrito into my face as if it were my first meal in six years. Burrito and chips in one hand, Dr. Pepper in the other, bits of chicken and rice and nacho chip were flying everywhere. It was probably pretty gross to watch, especially for this woman who would certainly never eat a burrito at all let alone in her car at a stoplight. I’m sure people just didn’t do that in her day. Hey, these are the perils of modern life. Plus I was hungry and I was trying to finish everything before the light changed. At least I put a napkin in my lap.

I was going to roll down the window and at least offer her some chips or something, but the light changed and it was time to move on.