A Starbucks Snapshot
One of my favorite things about writing at a coffee shop is collecting little stories from the people around me. It’s a glimpse of humanity I don’t get on a daily basis while staying home with my kids. There’s not much time for quiet observation when you’re trying to keep two tiny humans from certain injury and mortal peril.
(My job is very exciting.)
When I arrived at Starbucks at around noon, I waited at the bar for my coffee beside two men in their fifties. They were seated at a small round table in the back corner, wearing identical beige windbreakers and sandals that exposed gnarled, yellowing toenails. I couldn’t tell their exact nationalities, but if I had to guess I would’ve guessed Indian. Until they started talking.
Their conversation was convivial and pure Russian. And apparently hilarious, because their guffaws frequently sliced through the sounds of espresso grinders and milk steaming.
I have no idea what they were saying, or why two Indian guys were conversing in Russian, but it was pretty cool.
A little while later, after I’d taken a seat and begun sipping my coffee, an older lady with black-framed bottlecap glasses sat down at the square table next to me with a chocolate cake pop and some kind of chocolate Frappuccino. She enjoyed her cake pop with obvious relish before pulling out a checkbook and filling out the little ledger part at the back where you’re supposed to balance all the sums to make sure you don’t run out of money.
She sat and sipped, balanced and budgeted, for about half an hour, at the end of which she collected her things and left with a faint smile on her face. It made me wonder how long she’s been coming to a cafe to balance her checkbook, how and when she began this little ritual, and why it makes her so happy.
After she left, two jocular men in their sixties bulled through the door. They had the look of two men who’d been doing sports their whole lives, with deep tans and easy grins that made me think they’ve both spent lots of time outside on golf courses. Their conversation was mostly football, but from the context I have to assume they’d crossed paths here at this Starbucks rather than arranged to meet here.
Interestingly, they both ordered drip coffee. After doctoring it up at the cream and sugar station, the taller of the two smacked the ass of the shorter guy and said, “Go get ‘em!” and then they were both gone.
I wonder whether the guy who ordered second had been planning on ordering a pink Frappuccino with extra whipped cream or something but changed his mind so as to save face around the other guy. Either way, I know that shorter guy’s ass is probably still stinging from that slap.
It’d be interesting to see whether any of my observations turned out to be true, but I can’t very well go and ask a stranger how his butt cheek feels, can I?
