Coffee Shop Follies

Surprisingly, there’s a ton of people in the coffee shop today. The weather is so beautiful that I was expecting to grab a seat immediately, but there’s a study group over on the right (isn’t it summer?), a woman and her friend having a very in-depth conversation on the left (by “in-depth” I mean “arguing”), and a couple of my people (those with laptops) scattered throughout the café. Iced green tea in hand, I try to look nonchalant as I keep my eye out for anyone that makes the slightest indication that he/she/they/it is leaving.

Books closing, computers folding shut, the sound of a bag’s zipper ring melodically in my ears as I make my way towards the center of the floor. “Yes!” I say to myself. Sure, my computer bag hits a few heads along my journey. Yeah, my purse, being lifted in the air out of concern for other innocent bystanders, (by"sitters?") wobbles uncontrollably.  So what if the lid of my cold beverage  is about to pop off because of my eager (and pressure-filled) grasp?  I’m getting a seat! Suckers.

The sound of my bags hitting the side of my body (and the people around me) serve as the soundtrack of my travels. I can already see myself typing furiously on my laptop, sipping my drink, getting things done as I should. Tomorrow I can relax…Saturday, I’ll get a little more done…Sunday I’ll relax a bit more…Monday, I’ll come here again…maybe I’ll even sit in the same seat! I quietly chuckle to myself. The sun’s shining…the sky is blue. It’s going to be a great day, indeed.

Wait.

“Can you watch my stuff? I’ll be right back.” What?  You mean...the orange table with its magnificent shine…the comfortable, cushioned seat...the perfectly placed electrical outlet...why aren't you leaving?!?  This table and I...we were obviously made for each other.  Alas, my words fall on deaf ears. “Sure," I say begrudgingly.  

She returns and smiles, “Thanks!” For nothing! I say to myself. I heave my bags back on my shoulders like a camel, with a very fake and tight-lipped smile.

I return to my post. Others are scoping out the joint. My heart is beating out of my chest.  Why I am so nervous?  Oh - through squinted eyes, I look at a couple in the far right. They are standing next to TWO tables. The nerve! 

My refreshing beverage now becomes a sudden annoyance. I need to throw it out, but I’m afraid that one false move will cause me to lose this game in this pathetic table race.

I see movement. Off in the distance, I see Enemy #1 making his way over to my intended target. He has no bags, no drink, no jacket….he's not even here to work! I stuff the plastic cup into my purse, and as it makes a crackling sound, I start to sprint. Well, as much as you can sprint with a backpack, a shoulder bag, a laptop and an open beverage. The melted ice snakes through my purse. I ignore it, of course.

I’m (half) flying through the aisle and do a side-move with the precision of a trained athlete. Everything is flying in different directions. Bags 1-3, arms, legs, hair... People are looking at me in sheer awe….or disbelief…I don’t know the difference. They’ve probably never seen moves like this before, I think. I shout a million “Excuse me’s.” Why, I don’t know. In fact, I don’t understand why saying “excuse me” makes anything better…whether it be an obnoxious burp or flatulence. In any case, Enemy #1 gives his accomplice a signal. I turn around in slow motion…as I look back….

It’s too late. Enemy #1 has already staked his claim at the table that could’ve been mine. All mine. Enemy #2 gives a thumbs-up. Lame.  Who even does that anymore, I think….angrily.

A woman in an official-looking trench coat whizzes by me, knocking my bag to the floor. No apology. I want to give her the finger, but I think that’s only cool when you’re driving.

“If you’re not going to stay, then you should leave the café,” a woman in a green smock and duck-billed visor tells me. I have no words. Of course I want to stay!  But there are no tables, lady!  The odds were certainly against me.

I’m raising the white flag. It’s only been twenty minutes, but my feet are aching, my bags slipping off of my shoulders, and there’s a broken, plastic and leaky cup in one of them. I begin to leave when the most magical voice I’ve ever heard rises up and over the rapid chatter of those around me:

“Hey…do you want to sit here?”

Calm as ever, I reply, “Sure.” My bags drop to the floor in relief.

As I look around eagerly, I wonder if anyone else notices my accomplishment. Smiling from ear to ear, I give myself a mental high-five.