My Wife's Exclusive Passenger Isn't Me
Early in the morning, I'm doubled over with unbearable stomach pain, so I ask my wife, Mandy Sanchez, to drive me to the hospital.
Downstairs, just as I reach for the passenger door, she presses her hand against it, stopping me before I can pull it open.
"The passenger seat is Sam's. No one else sits there," she declares.
I just stare at her, wondering if I heard her right.
I paid 300,000 dollars for this car. And now she's telling me I can't ride shotgun because that seat is reserved for another man?
Mandy pulls open the back door and shoves me inside.
"What difference does it make where you sit? Your stomach hurts, right? Let me just get you to the hospital."
Somehow, the cramping i