I’m in Starbucks courtesy of a Christmas present, happily sipping a large latte without a care in the world.
It’s early on New Years’s Day so I’m pretty much alone until…
a man sits on my right, a woman, my left. They immediately get on their phones as though they were alone in their respective kitchens.
Now manners for me are big even though I know they’re heading towards extinction like fresh air, presidential leadership and polar bears, but I suit up anyway because my Connecticut, the appropriate part I’m still proud to possess, is not going down without a fight.
I say to the man, “Could you please at least lower your voice…please?” I say this kindly, my words lacking any bite or sting.
He covers the phone, looks at me and says, “I’m sorry, just give me a minute.” In less than a minute he gets off, wonders never cease. The woman, however, whose voice could shatter the front windows, is still talking a mile a minute about some guy named Earl she had a date with who hasn’t called again.
The man turns to me and whispers, “Can you blame Earl?”
I laugh in spite of how she’s succeeding in ruining my latte experience.
Here it comes.
Now I swear to you, this guy said what he said so softly, but she clearly has ears like a hunting dog, which seems an apt description of her overall hungry, desperate, demented demeanor, and says,
“I heard that. You think I didn’t hear that? HOW RUDE!”
They then start going at it, verbally, while the staff stares, riveted like they were ringside at The Garden.
I quietly slink away, my latte, alas, all gone except for a little milky foam I’m soaking up with my index finger, feeling as if I just saw coming attractions of a really bad film, in a theater, that at least had a fairly nice coffee bar.