Over this past weekend, I decided to head over to Dallas and just wander. It gives me the time to catch up onmy news via NPR during the drive over there. It also gives me an excuse to go out and actually interact with people. If it were not for this little outing at least once a month, I’d probably have as much social interaction as a mushroom. Mostly, I’d go out and wander the shops, catch a movie or grab a bite in an open air eatery. I’d just had lunch and with some time on my hand I decided on coffee at a Starbucks before heading for the movies. Hey. Don’t look at me like that. I’m all for helping independent coffee houses and keeping the boots of the corporate evildoers off the little guys, but pragmatism beats idealism 99 days out of a 100. In my case 98 out of a 100. Anyway, I was standing in line giving my order to the corporate whipping boy behind the counter when this really attractive (okay, smoking) girl comes in with some guy. I catch a glimpse and then return to my order. One black plain coffee. It might seem a ironic that I go to Starbucks and purchase the blandest thing available, but that was what I was feeling at the time. I was also tired. I didn’t want to have to recite the Illiad just to get a legal stimulant. Tall? Venti? Grande? Saying these words also makes me feel guilty. Like I’d just told a really transparent lie.
I grab my coffee and sit down on one of those red velvet couches that’s pretty generic to every Starbucks in the world. Never let it be said that Starbucks corporate is bastion of originality. I find a NYTimes sitting on a coffee table. An article on the current woes of the real estate agent is fascinating enough to read. I was just starting the article when someone sits down next to me on my right and starts blabbering about something. I turn towards this person and it was the girl I gave a passing glance. At this point I look at her in the eye and there must’ve been a mixture of disorientation, confusion and surprise painted on my face, because she immediately apologized. She’d confused me with the guy she came in with. I can say with all honesty that the only characteristics that the guy and myself shared is the fact we’re the same race and wore white shirts. Everything else is the complete opposite. He had probably 50 lbs. on me and maybe 5 inches taller. He wore a cap. I don’t wear hats unless it’s winter. How this girl ever confused me with him is beyond my reckoning. In all fairness and honesty, I’m better looking. Just not tall.