Hello! Um... you are kinda sitting in my spot. Yes, this is a public place. And yes, everyone is welcome here and no, my name is not on that chair. Nonetheless, that is where I sit. Ask Joe, the coffee guy. He likes to look over my shoulder particularly if I am uploading pictures. Joe is a photographer at heart, I am guessing. But he knows this is my table and well you are kinda in the way.
I lurve, lurve, lurve this Starbucks because during the day it is a virtual beehive, but at night it is a haven with nary a soul sipping on a latte. See, this particular Starbucks only has two outlets and my battery only lasts an hour and I got a lot of work to do. The other outlet is by the handicap table and well, I've just never been able to work up the nerve to sit there for fear of getting an evil staredown by someone for which that station is designed. It is tempting, but I imagine the anxiety alone would have me checking the door every 2 minutes waiting in anticipation of the moment I am officially a dirtbag. If it makes you feel any better, I never use the handicapped stall in the restroom, either, for the same reason.
So, right now, I am waiting not so patiently. Because I know from experience that in a matter of moments the soothing sounds of Paul Simon will put you right where I want you. Your eyelids are getting heavy.... you are nodding off... you are gently pushed across the store whilst in your chair only to awaken in the nice seat next to the newspaper rack. Sweet dreams, cowboy.
Biding my time,