The Starbucks People.

The air inside Starbucks was cool and refreshing in comparison to the unseasonal heat that characterized this Alabama Sunday. A smattering of people sitting inside, first occupying the more comfortable sofas that were available as well as less comfortable but perhaps more practical tables organized throughout, were far more in number than the amount of available parking outside would suggest. Few enough people that there was still plenty of seating to choose from, but enough that finding an area where sitting would not infringe on other’s bubbles of space had become difficult. The first meaningful interaction I observed demonstrates the former sentiment.
In the coveted corner, where the entirety of this Starbuck’s sofa collection was located, sat three adult men and one woman, around a coffee table where half empty cups had been placed, engaging in official sounding, most likely work related conversation. One of the men was partially blocked from my view by a large display of Tervis Tumblers, mugs and other Starbucks paraphernalia that had strategically been placed in the middle of the store. The next time I looked up, I found that my view had even more been blocked by a guy who, seeming to have come from nowhere, sat down at a table directly in the middle of the store. His sudden appearance, followed by a dialogue of apologies and questions—“Did our noise scare you off?” “You were here first; are you sure…?” lead me to realize that he was indeed the same man that had been obscured earlier from my view, and that really there were only three members the cluster of colleagues that occupied the envied sofas. The man, now more easily referred to as guy, because in clear view looked much more similar in age to me than any of the others in the sofa discussion, pulled out his computer and with headphones in his ears began to smile, almost smirk, as if he knew something the rest of the world around him just didn’t get.
With his large glass of ice water and computer situated now on the table in front of him, he began to spread cream cheese on a bagel, all the while staring at his computer with the same, uninterrupted grin. A somewhat distracting burst of laughter came forth from that same corner of businessmen, but did nothing to break the smile of the so concentrated guy, who now had a smudge of cream cheese on the corner of his mouth. After several minutes of the same, the young man suddenly stood up, put his computer away in its protective case, sat down again, comfortably resting one leg up on the chair next to him, and began to stare out the window. With no screen or anything protecting his gaze from mine, there was a slight tension that began to fill the room—perhaps because he suspected he was being watched, or even more so because he was afraid someone else knew that he himself was doing some watching. Whichever the reason why, in only a few short minutes he had pulled his computer out a second time. At one point in all of this, he stood up and walked away, most likely to go to the bathroom, and on his way exchanged friendly words with the barista that suggested previous familiarity between the two. To my suspicion, only a couple more minutes after his return from the restroom, the young guy walked toward the door, calling behind him, “I’m headed out, but don’t worry I’ll probably be back later.” The barista looked forward to his return.
I however, did not stay long enough to verify if the young man proved true to his word.