Starbucks, 8:15 p.m. - Snappy jazz, WOACAs and slutty lesbian schoolgirls

There is a snappy jazz tune playing on the overhead speakers. The baristas are chatting, but yet move with a quiet efficiency. There is a man reading a newspaper from yesterday. We are the only four people in the entire coffee joint. The upbeat music is entirely out of touch with the quiet mood evoked by the rainy weather outside.

I can hear the grinder from behind the bar. The smell of the raw coffee beans is intoxicating.

Well. Things just got so very interesting. One female barista just came over and said "You have to think you're special if I'm showing you this." It turns out to be pictures from a Halloween costume contest she went to with a friend. They were, and I quote, "slutty lesbian schoolgirls."

I don't know her first name. We have a strictly business relationship. Cash is traded for coffee and sugar additives. And I've seen more of her breasts than most first dates.

Squelch. Squelch. Squelch. The dude barista is cleaning out the sink. He's really working the sponge action over there. You will never clean so much in your life as when you work food service or retail.

More coffee grinding. Ohhh. There's a fresh pot of coffee brewing. I guess this is for the last two hours of the night. Rich, deep, nutty. I can't read the board from here. There's a promo board in the way.

There's a lot of merchandise jammed into a small space here. Both registers have those iTunes displays. There's a CD stand by the pickup bar and another display with "The Kite Runner" over there. There's about eight baskets with water bottles, pounds of coffee and thermos bottles at floor level. I've never even noticed. I usually don't look down. I want coffee man. Then there's a wasted-space display for a board game Cranium.

Dude barista is lugging huge vats of ice out of the freezer into the back over to the freezer by the espresso machine and frappucino blenders. He sort of looks like he doesn't do physical work very often. He definitely looks like he isn't really enjoying lugging these. The ice makes a nice *slish* sound as it slides into the freezer. There are still only two patrons in the Starbucks.

Whoops. We have a winner. She's a WOACA. She's looking at the list of drinks. She's got black slacks, some atrocious funky fashion-forward top from Ann Taylor in an awful mud-brown color and one of those businesswomen-chop haircuts, where there is about an inch of hair on her head because she just can't be bothered. She's still perusing the menu. Lady. This is not a cafe. It is the Starbucks. "Marble Cake. That sounds pretty cool. I'll have that and a grande soy latte."

OK. After ordering, she stands at the counter, whips out the cell phone and starts dialing. Now she's eating her marble cake. They're fixing her drink. Who is she talking to? If I were in line behind her I'd like to give her a good shove. She's going to hang up? No. Wait. She's dialing again. And again. I bet she's got messages. Damn lady. Sit down or something.

I wish I could figure her shirt out. It has horizontal ridges all up and down it, like ancient Japanese armor. But the front is pleated left and right.

Her hair is more of a hot mess than I thought. She's standing in profile now, and it is standing up like the crest of a cockatoo. Very clearly chemically assisted.

Now her drink is unacceptable. Well, maybe if you paid attention while ordering, while it was being made, or if you came to a Starbucks, you would know how coffee is supposed to taste.

She do got a nice handbag though. Zebra print, with nice straps. Perfect for the Woacas of the world.

I'm being blinded by headlights. There's a Lincoln outside trying to park in the narrow spaces along the street. Backing out, pulling in. There are no other cars within six spaces on either side, but it has to fit in the space closest to the door because it might rain again any second. Never mind the fact that there is an over hang. Backing out, pulling in again. How hard is it to simply pull into a space. Backing out again. Is the third time the charm? No. They are leaving. I wonder if they just could not deal with the parking situation.

My time is up. Thank you.