Sitting At Starbucks

I love sitting in Starbucks.  In fact, I am right now.  My car is in the shop just a short walk from here and I am getting some work done while I sip my Caramel Mocha Frappuccino (add Chips) Grande.  Best $4 gift to yourself you could possibly give.  Sometimes it is really hard to get much done at Starbucks.  Most of the time when I get the cars worked on, I go to McDonald's.  Not that I can stand to eat there.  I know I won't get distracted.  I usually order a drink (NOT coffee) and use their Wi-fi.  And the people that come to McDonald's are not as interesting.  In fact they all look downright depressed.  I am not sure if going to McD's makes you depressed, or if ingesting the food causes degradation of the body as a whole leading to a general malaise.  Either way, the only people who ever seem to be genuinely excited to enter the golden arches are children, and that is because they are really there for the playland.  They neither pay for the food nor live with the knowlege of the implications of eating something that contains enough preservatives to liquify your innards, yet keep them from decomposing for up to 7 years.  I digress.  Let's see...oh yes...Stabucks.  I am always interested in the people shuffling in and out.  Right now there are two college girls, two ladies sitting just next to me, a lady in a camelhair business suit, a man in a white shirt and irredescent blue tie, two Emo high school students wearing all black, a mom who has let herself go a bit and should really put away the Christmas sweater, and me.  All of us drawn together by the inexhaustable yearning for a strong, bitter, overpriced cup of coffee served up by green and white draped smiling people from the land of Latte who only speak in hyphenated strings of flavors proceeded by the word Macchiato, Cappuccino, or Extra-Bold.  Would you like a receipt?  How about a loan?The thing I love is trying to figure out what all these people are doing.  Not as in getting a cup-a-joe, but really, what are they doing? 

The college students are dressed in sweats and running shoes that look like they came out of the Foot Locker boxes yesterday.  They both have their hair pulled up in loose pony tails and are not wearing makeup.  One talks a lot and the other nods with a sleepy look, costantly playing with her car keys and responding only after a long pause.  She then quickly takes a tiny sip of coffee that I am sure has long since gone less than lukewarm.  Neither carries a purse, but both clutch to mini pocketbooks with student ID cards displayed.  Next to me are the anti-students.  There are two ladies directly to my right at another tiny round table.  Once again there is one woman who is speaking quite a bit and who apparently has been harboring some rather ill feelings toward her current office mates.  I cannot make out most of the conversation, but it would seem everyone has been getting a piece of her mind.  The conversation has just ended and they are moving on, as have the lady in the business suit, the man in the white shirt, and the mom in Christmas garb.  Replacing them are a man in kakhis with a lime v-neck sweater and a brown fedora, and a young man on a mission for a very strong cup of coffee.  He has sleep in his eyes and trouble on his mind. 

It has become quieter now.  The green and white staff are cleaning the tables and floors as well as taking a moment to put their hands on their hips, make a sucking from a straw look on their lips, followed by a long, labored exhale. 

A new lady just came in with a tweed coat and oversized black purse.  She added two packs of sugar, half-and-half, a hot sleeve and lid to her coffee.  She dropped her wooden stir in the floor.  Picked up another and began to stir with it. I noticed how she intensely stared at the one in the floor and seemed somewhere between bothered and repulsed by it.  She looked around as if to find out if anyone else had noticed her dropping the stir.  Just then, a woman who had been making a lot of conversation, laughing and making the staff feel appreciated, dropped her coffee all over the place.  She leaned over with a dozen napkins attempting to clean up her mess.  Her coffee was quickly cleaned up by everyone around her and mopped up within 30 seconds.  She continued to smile, as did everyone else.  A good laugh was had by all.  I was glad the coffee spilled.  It showed me how real her personality was, and helped reveal those around her as well.

Every guest but the college girls and I have left.  Gradually the noise level has subsided.  The cold breath from the glass doors has been replaced by heat and a heavier smell of coffee in the air.  There is a Johnny Cash song playing quietly.  The whole building has changed.  I notice the hardness of the chair, the imperfections in the wall next to my table.  The trash can has coffee spills on it and there are crums all over the floor.  I notice a cobweb in the light fixture above my table.  Why have I never noticed those before?

You know, I really think people come to Starbucks for the community of the thing.  The ones that came alone and didn't connect with anyone left as quickly as they came.  They were on a mission.  One of several for the morning I assume.  Some came for community where they made themselves the focal point, spent their time complaining and looking for sypathy and confirmation.  I noticed the one doing all the talking also called all the shots.  When she was ready, they left.  One person actually livened up the entire store just because she was there.  Her spirit brought everyone to life.  No one cared that she also caused some messiness.  The college girls have finally decided to leave.  Each seems comfortable in the role she played.  Like a well coreographed dance, they collect their things and leave, continuing their conversation without pause. 

There's nothing particularly great about the store.  This one is pretty small comparatively.  It's kind of cold in here.  I could decorate better.  There are people here to whom I wouldn't normally connect.  Some I would even avoid.  I am really not comfortable in this chair anymore.  But I just can't keep from coming back.  Something in me overlooks the imperfections of Starbucks as an establishment and keeps me returning because of the community I find.  Some contend I would be better off with an immitation with more seating (so I am not forced to sit so close to everyone else), a flashier presentation, where I can get in and out faster and not have to pay such a high price for being there.  But as far as I am concerned, no other store has figured out the importance of community, closeness, simplicity, and the expectation going in that if I want something better, there is a greater cost to be paid.

Peace