|
|
The
views expressed
on this page are soley those of the author and do not
necessarily
represent the views of County News Online
|
 |
Broke Wife, Big City
All I want to do is
sit down
By Aprill Brandon
I remember once hearing a teacher say something along the lines of "an
object in motion tends to stay in motion and an object at rest tends to
stay at rest, especially if that object is a person sitting in a
coffeeshop and you want their seat."
Or something like that. I don't know. I was too busy sending
professional-grade orgami-esque folded notes to my best friend about
very important topics, such as what fast food restaurant parking lot we
were going to hang out at after school.
But even if "technically" not being able to find a seat at Starbucks or
some independently-owned cafe that features "local" art of dudes in
fedoras playing the saxophone prominently on the walls isn't considered
"science" or whatever, it should be. Because the evidence, based on my
extensive research over the past 30 minutes, is irrefutable.
See, as a freelance writer, I am constantly in search of anything that
can distract me from actually writing or doing anything productive that
might result in something tangible, like a paycheck. And having run out
of distracting things to do at home (now that my husband has banned me
from dressing up our dog in period costumes and recreating scenes from
classic literature since it was, and I quote, "having a negative effect
on Buffy's mental health")* I decided to go be one of those people who
writes in public so everyone (other writers) can stare at me instead of
actually writing while I stare at them instead of actually writing.
*Buffy did, however, make an incredible Anna Karenina, if I do say so
myself. Until he started chewing on the toy train I kept ramming into
his side.
Only I never actually got to do that. Because no matter when I go to a
coffee shop, no matter what time of day or day of the week, rain or
shine or mid-hurricane, the place is already filled with other people
whose husband's have also apparently banned them from dressing up their
dogs as Jean Valjean. And this afternoon was the last straw. I
literally stood there, hovering creepily over people sitting down, for
a full 30 minutes and a seat STILL didn't open up. Not even when I
politely but firmly started coughing on them.
Just who are these people?
I mean, I know in general who they are. They are that group of college
students that has at least one of every major race represented and are
working on some stupid group project that makes them overuse the word
"juxtaposition."
They are that Very Important Business Man in a cardigan who is waiting
to meet someone for a Very Important Business Meeting, which is why
they won't let me sit across from them. But the thing is, the person
they are meeting NEVER, EVER COMES.
They are the two moms with the giant strollers and yoga mats who just
left Mommy and Me Pilates class with their demon spawn and are taking
up the entire back corner so they can sip their green tea latte and
discuss Derek Lam's new line at Kohl's.
They are the chick who just got done jogging and decided that instead
of going home and taking a shower, they should get a hazelnut
frappuccino and write the Next Great American Novel.
Now, granted, without further research, all I have right now are a few
theories about how these people keep getting these seats, which are as
follows:
1. The American obsession with gourmet coffee has created a new race of
hybrid humans that are composed of 70 percent caffeine. And the only
sustenance they can survive on is seasonal lattes and those 140 calorie
cake pops. So, to ensure their survival, these people start lining up
outside the doors at 4:30 a.m. every single day and then sleep outside
the building when it closes.
Or...
2. Whenever potential coffee shop owners see a group of fairly
attractive and diverse people milling about in a small area, they just
start building around them and thus the people you see in there every
day taking up all the seats now live there and are never allowed to
leave. This would also explain why you can never actually get into, let
alone use, a Starbuck's bathroom. It's actually someone's
apartment.
Alas, we may never know the true answer since 1. I'm extremely lazy and
probably won't follow up on any of this and 2. I may be tired of
writing at home but at least my house has vast amounts of vodka, which
personally, I think helps the writing process much more than coffee.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
|
|
|
|
