On bad days, the minute I walk through the door of a Starbucks, the overhead fluorescent fixtures start buzzing with this anxiety of meaning, and the coffee beans start screaming, and I’m literally assaulted by the pain of paper cups and plastic straws, and the chatter of cash registers filled with all those arrogant metal coins that think they’re actually worth something. The only difference is that now when this happens I don’t feel like I have to put my head through the glass of the muffin display. I can just hear the pain and let it go, which seems to have a calming effect on everybody.
