Every New Night

Every new night falls, right?

New York is a constantly boiling cauldron of activity. I'm never ever amazed at its variety and boundless energy. Just sitting in Starbucks, vegetating with my brother, lends to a strange fascination. I'm enjoying watching the people walk in with their self-important cellphones. My brother feels that they should have them taped to their heads so that they can continue to go through their day' activity while keeping their conversations going.

Yes, New Yorkers do that. They walk the sidewalks, order coffee, sit at tables, talk to others right across from them, all with cell phones pressed against their ears. Have you noticed that? I wonder if they do the same in other cities? And there is another mannerism uniquely belonging to cell phone users: The 'Cell Phone Pace'. Have you ever seen it? People with cell phones pressed against the side of their heads, pacing back and forth, in circles, up and down, aimlessly as they speak. As if they need to animate their bodies to keep their lips flapping together. Now tell me: YOU'VE SEEN THIS, haven't you? You just never gave it a name before. But that's exactly what it is, the Cell Phone Pace.

Yeah, that happens at Starbucks, along with the chattering Daisies. Yeah, groups of women and men too, running off at the mouths so fast and hard that you think a fist fight is about to erupt at any second. The come, sit, fire away at each other's faces for a few minutes, and then get up and go, charged with a double shot of expresso. They are all fired up.

Then lastly there are the college kids, with their books and their laptops. That's where my brother and I fit in. Not the kids part though, but I with my laptop and my brother with his books. We take a table and do as all homeless do in Starbucks, loiter for hours. Although we are not loitering. We do buy coffee, and wait until either the library opens or our therapy session begins, and then off we go.

Before the advent of NALTRAXONE, Starbucks was where I used to spike a good cup of coffee. Get a belt with your jolt. An upper and a downer in both fists. A little Irish Coffee to get you through the tough day. And it would work better than a Red Bull and Vodka. It had the power to knock you down and pick you up all in the same sip. Now that's one drink that they should sell in Starbucks and stop with the alcohol flavored shit. Now why in God's green Earth would I want to flavor my coffee with the flavor of scotch? Isn't that like 'flavoring' your broth with meat flavor? Or your water with lemon flavor? Why not drop chicken in the fucking soup or a lemon in your water? Why the substitute for the real fucking thing? Huh?

I want some sour mash in my drink. Not sour mash flavor. And that's why I love Jack Daniels. There is no such thing as sour mash flavor. Either you have sour mash in whatever you are having or you don't. No flavoring involved. They even have Jack Daniels Steak at Bennigans. There's not doubt what's in it. Ain't no flavor.

Another thing about Starbucks, and I mean the Madison Avenue Starbucks, that's a real joke is the radio line. I call it the radio line because once the line gets long, like more than ten people on it, they send one of their goofy workers out. Wearinig a headset radio he walks to the middle of the line and work his way down, radioing in the orders BEFORE you get to the counter.

This sounds good in theory, but this is how it really works. You get on the line, and when you are five people away from the counter, this goofy server walks up and asks what it is that you want. So you tell him, right? And he repeats it several times into the headsets and then disappears. Now you may think that he is going to the next person in the line, but no. I'll tell you where in a minute.

You wind your way down to the counter and before you open your mouth to tell them what you ordered earlier, the goofy server appears over you shoulder and asks you to repeat yourself. Then echoes what you say to the counter person as if they are translating English. The counter person listens to each word spoken then vanishes. The cashier listens also and rings you up.

When done, you stand to the side as the counter person returns with one grande coffee. He is shy a marble cake, another coffee and a rainbow cookie. You have to remind him of your full order, and he'll return again with another grande cup of coffee. You'll have to remind him a third time for the rest of your order while he is listening to the translation of the next order coming in.

And then, after all this, you'll get what you waited on line for.

Goofy right?

But I love this shit. I spend hours in Starbucks, writing and emailing and watching life go by.

In a way it's sad. In a way it's fun. In a way it's life. And in some ways, death. If you don't mind my being dramatic. Every new night falls, right? Every new Starbucks closes too. I try not to be there for that. I'm on my way to the Box for more shenanigans instead.

Hobobob