I can divide the people of the world into two categories: People that love coffee shops and people that dislike coffee shops. I spent the better part of an evening reading at a coffee shop, which is something I don’t do. To clarify, I can and do read, however, I’ve never been overly impressed with reading, or trying to get work done at a coffee shop. Once every seven to ten weeks I enjoy a frilly, double skinny, no froth, hold the calories, naked, bean less jolt, but most days I don’t.
Coffee shops just aren’t my shop of choice. I don’t like the smell of coffee, I seldom splurge on the foo foo drinks and I don’t even like the plain stuff. I feel out of place at coffee shops. I feel like I should be twenty again, back at college cramming for the finals. I feel exposed and alone, sitting there with my iPod, a book or a blank tablet (I’d say laptop, but I don’t own one).Coffee shops just aren’t for me, and what happened to me today, similar to what’s happened many other times, solidifies my choice to “shop” elsewhere.
Exhibit A: The churchgoer, perches a mere five feet to my right. I couldn’t help but be distracted by her conversation. She loudly pronounced herself as “broken” and “uninterested in pursuing any romantic relationships. With anyone. Period.” What the crap does broken even mean? Does is mean she just got dumped? Just got out of a relationship? Trying to “find herself?” She continued on, but I lost track as I reached for a piece of paper to write this down so I didn’t forget why I don’t like coffee shops. I felt bad for her friend, though I couldn’t see her face. I imagine her friend blankly staring at her, giving the occasional nod and smile, while secretly burning up on the inside. Secretly I imagine her friend making her grocery list, organizing her week and making a mental note to never meet again for coffee. Maybe I’m wrong, but these are the facts as I witnessed and was annoyed by them.
Exhibit B: Granola lady. Now, I’ll preface this by saying that I’m in support of people getting out of their houses, and spending time in public places. However, I’m not in favor of the loud and obnoxiously crunchy granola the woman two feet to me left brought to the coffee shop. She ordered a latte and settled in to the cozy chocolate leather chair near the fireplace. Innocent enough, right? She then proceeded to pull out a three course meal from her portable cooler. What? I know. Where did it come from? She had beans or some sort of veggie to start, then a chicken dish, final course of loud granola to conclude. It certainly was an interesting location to sit and eat dinner. Who knows, maybe this was her routine, maybe she was just in between classes, the point is, she was disturbing with all the granola chewing. The slower she chewed the louder the granola seemed and the more irritated and distracted I became.
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