Books-a-Million, 9:32 p.m. - "Mine is so big and heavy."

The Joe Muggs Café at Books-A-Million has none of the frenetic energy of Barnes & Noble. I wonder which chain is doing better on Wall Street? Just look at the customer traffic and you can easily decide. Books-A-Million is the Wal-Mart of the book world, while Barnes & Noble has, for better or for worse, cultivated an image as the Target of the middle-class literati.

There's not much going on here. There are a couple of off-duty nurses unwinding after what looks to have been an exhausting shift. The male nurse (murse?) has his head dug down into his chin and looks completely knackered. His baby-blue scrubs are wrinkled and, while not grimy, definitely look lived in. I find it cute and a sign of his personality that he has on black Vans.

The female nurse is sipping coffee out of a brought-from-home tumbler. She's much older - at least in her early 60s, and has a no-nonsense haircut and the signs of too many long nights with too many patients are clearly etched across her caring face.

She has a look of competency and caring but at the same time, you know that she forgets her patients the moment they leave the ward. You have to adopt that attitude in order to survive. She's wearing green scrubs with some hideous (but surely comfortable) Barney-colored Crocs and has a black knitted sweater thrown over her hunched shoulders. She's got a gigantic handbag and a lot of stuff strewn out on the table in front of her - a crossword, keys, a case for some glasses. She looks like she's about to nod off now.

I have to say that I like the café at Books-A-Million more than Barnes & Noble. It is more open, spacious and airy. It feels like a place you could settle in for a nice coffee and a good read, as opposed to a clanging New York train station.

I didn't choose my seat well. I'm staring out onto the parking lot, which unfortunately affords a direct view of the main turn lane into the shopping center where this Books-A-Million is located. The lights at night are gorgeously pretty, but I get an eyeful of spectrum every time someone turns in.

Do they let old people out on their breaks on Saturday nights? This old liver spot just wandered by. He's wearing khaki pants and a loose-fitting shirt that advertises that he recently lost weight. He is eying my laptop like goods on a auction showroom floor.

I am concentrating and don't look up, but I do realize I left my cell phone lying on the table. I look up, right at him, and then look right at my phone.

He totters on by. Then he stares at my laptop bag, which is a GAP special edition. It doesn't have anything in it at the moment but would be impossible to replace. I stare. He stares. I smile and he smiles back and lurches on. OK. Thank you, creepy old man.

I can hear a raspy voice ordering a coffee or something from the cafe bar. There's another old man acting as a coffee-slinger tonight who can't make an iced mocha to save his life. I paid $5 for a coffee that I wouldn't feed to my worst enemy's dog.

Unbeknownst to me, the creepy old man is apparently coming around for a second pass. I hear the sound of shuffling feet and then a face appears on my right, followed by a light tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, what kind of computer is that?" Because the entire planet cannot tell that this is an Apple. You know, the glowing fruit on the top and the sheer beauty of the styling should be enough to convince the legions of Microsoft zombies to convert.

But old people will be old people. "Oh." (because I'm sort of upset at being interrupted and then a little shocked at being approached.) "It's a Mac. See, it has the little glowy apple on the lid." And I fold the screen down and show him the Apple.

His reply? "That's nice. MINE IS SO BIG AND HEAVY." Thank you, old man, for giving me nightmares about your laptop and whatever else you have that might be big and heavy.

At this point, his caretaker/wife/daughter comes up and is boring holes in him with her eyes. "What are you doing? Did you buy something?" She asks because he has a receipt from the café but no obvious coffee. Actually, that's a good question. I wonder what he did with whatever he bought?

It is very slow here. There's no delicious coffee grinder aroma, and the only noise is the constant hum of the machine used to keep those iced fruity drinks iced.

The murse is awake and gone to the bathroom. Power nap maybe? And his aged companion is now reading. Maybe they are waiting on a companion to get off a shift or on a ride.

My time is up. Thank you.