I rode up to Starbucks. The reflection in the window startled me. I had forgotten about the costume I was wearing. This could explain some of the problems I was having today.
The inside was buzzing with caffeine induced franticity. There were at least a dozen children draped all over their parents and this is something I cannot reconcile. Healthy children joined at the hip with adults inside a building. It made my stomach queasy and worse yet was the woman and man and three children leaning all over the counter where I needed to place an order. The woman was ordering and the rest of the family was simply occupying space that I could have been standing in. They all seemed to need a place to lie down. They all seemed weary and tired of life. The man turned and looked at me with hate in his eyes. It was nice to know that he couldn’t see the hate in mine.
The Starbucks crew consisted of at least six sexually ambiguous human beings. Not one of them would look at me as I stood there in purgatorial limbo. The ordering family in front of me had evidently brought some contagion of confusion like a traveling swarm of locusts that left everyone just swatting locusts and nobody making coffee or taking money or doing much of anything that would keep things rolling.
“Let’s roll!” I bellowed from the diaphragm. The whole room turned into huge eyeballs that looked right through me.
“Venti Americano with room!” I lobbed my order into the pit and took a seat by the window.
Zombie like state indeed. Why should I have to go into a zombie like state because of these mutants? They would not be alive if there were proper amounts of wolves and bears about.
“Venti Americano with room!” She has a singsong voice and did not belong here.
“I’d like to take you away from all this.” I was serious.
“Do Mormons drink coffee?”
She was about twenty. She did not belong here. I gave her money and let my hand linger on hers. She blushed.
“Do you like cognac?”
“Do Mormons drink cognac?”
I took a sip of my coffee type drink.
“Do you like cocaine? Weed?”
“No. You’re not a Mormon are you?”
“I am on a mission. God lives on a planet in outer space.”
“Have you ever been to the planetarium?”
This was an opening of mammoth proportions. I had to respond correctly.
“Did your father touch you? Touch you down there?”
“Why? Is that a prerequisite?” She was a nasty one.
“I’ll kick his ass.” I looked straight into her eyes. She looked straight back.
“Meet me at the planetarium, the one at the city college. Seven o’clock tonight.” She was calm, smooth. Her name tag said Gloria.
“Ok Gloria. Seven p.m. tonight.”
I decided to leave well enough alone. The bike was tough to ride with a venti Americano in one hand, but I was cool. I was cool.