Starbucks, 4:33 p.m. --- Cold weather brings out the frappuccino addicts

I’m at a new Starbucks – one I don’t normally go to – because I’m in a new city. This one looks like it has been converted out of a McDonald’s or a KFC – because it is much, much larger than a typical Starbucks. Plus, it is completely standalone – not joined to any other retail space.

Right now, I think I’m sitting in what used to be the drinks station. I’m in a tiny nook off to the right of the Starbucks kitchen. There is a really nice table where I’ve plopped open my computer and these fantastic slipper chairs. This Starbucks also retained the old coffee bean and tropical flower wallpaper.

Moreover, they have not gone overboard with the Christmas décor. There are only a couple of wreaths and the usual red Christmas merchandise – which manages to coordinate nicely with the fire extinguisher.

I can hear all the action at the coffee bar, but I can’t actually see the baristas. The blender for the frappuccinos is whirring, but I don’t know who ordered it or why. I really don’t know WHY anyone would order a frozen drink in 45 degree weather …

There is a woman in a fur coat saying “That just makes my heart so heavy …” Well, sucking down those frappes is what makes your hips so heavy.

Oh. They’re talking about snow. My god. She’s getting MULTIPLE FRAPPUCCINOS.

Old dude comes in limping. He’s wearing a black pullover with a Ford logo. His hair is as white as snow.

Howler monkey alert. It is a young mother with a tiny, tiny child. She is literally dragging it across the threshold of the door. The child clearly does not want to partake of the delicious coffee beverages in the Starbucks. This baby is smacking on a pacifier for all it is worth.

Now the child has pulled loose of its maternal unit’s grasp. DO NOT WANT. She’s feeling its bottom. Now we’re going to the bathroom. Stinky baby.

WOACA alert. There’s a middle-aged woman giving me a dirty look because I’m sitting at the handicapped table typing. She’s carrying a coffee and a slice of cake, not to mention a few extra pounds. She looks into the nook I’m sitting in, sniffs, as if in disapproval of my occupying HER table, then wanders out into the rest of the Starbucks.

Now she’s not even eating the cake; she’s checking her voice mail and blathering into her phone. She’s one of those precious types who thinks a blonde pageboy is the latest in de rigeur hairstyle conventions.

I’m at least twenty feet away and I can hear her conversation. “HEY BARBARA THIS IS SYLVIA. I WAS AT THE HOSPITAL BUT I JUST GOT OUT. OH ABSOLUTELY. GIVE ME JUST A FEW MINUTES. I HAVE TIME. I SHOULD PROBABLY BE AT MY OFFICE. OH ALLRIGHT THANK YOU.”

She’s wearing a leather jacket and blue jeans. All of this is spoiled by the fact that now she’s shoveling cake into her mouth like a demented pot fiend. And she’s still not put the phone down.

It is about 50 degrees out – and a man just walked past wearing shorts and sipping on a frappuccino. Hmmmm. Clearly Yankees have thicker blood than I’m used too. He’s a skinny thing too.

Blonde Pageboy is slamming the buttons on her phone again. She’s done with the cake. That was fast. And she’s giving me another dirty look. Devour the power of the MacBook and laugh. I bet she’s a Realtor or something.

OH MY GOD. They’re making another frappuccino. I seriously do not understand it. The people coming through the drive-through must have a serious, serious sugar addiction.

KALI FORGIVE ME JESUS THEY ARE MAKING ANOTHER ONE. I really do not get it. I love me some frappuccino – but this is just too much.


The entire time I have been here, the drive-through at this Starbucks has been bumping like the tenth hour of an all-night rave. It is crazy-busy.

The woman with the howler monkey is out of the bathroom. And the howler monkey is letting loose. Shrieks of joy I guess. And dearest Mumsy is getting – you guessed it – a frappuccino.

Seriously. What is it with the population here?

My time is up. Thank you.