A true story:

Val, Carl and I, at the Lennox, on the sidewalk going from Staples to Old Navy for a new flannel shirt for Carl (tomorrow being Fall Picture Day, we definitely thought a flannel shirt and his bib overalls would look pretty snazzy.) I’m pushing Carl in the stroller, Val to my left.

Up ahead of us is a couple, man and woman, older and middle-aged. The woman, in a purple/lavender sweater, is talking, somewhat excitedly, as if she’s thrilled to be alive; the man, quiet, smiling, grey blazer and black pants, making his way up the street. They are walking toward us. They are taking up the sidewalk; the woman either isn’t watching me or doesn’t see the stroller, but all but refuses to yield until the last moment, forces me over to the side and into one of the planting beds lining the walkway. They pass us by, a smile and nod, as she continues yammering on about whatever it is she’s talking about.

We walk on a little further towards the Old Navy, my eyes bugging out, fingers clutching the handle of the stroller in a white-knuckled frenzy. Val, who had to fall into step behind me, catches back up, sees me and breathes, “I didn’t think she was ever going to move over.”

“Who cares?” says I. “That just made my entire night.”

“What are you talking about?” Val asks.

“You didn’t recognize that guy she was talking to?”

“No.”

“First man to orbit the earth.”