September 17, 2007

  • Line

    I'm looking at my phone. My phone is my timepiece, my stopwatch, my alarm clock, my tip calculator, and my phone. It's talking to me, and it's saying 8:24 PM.

    It's Sunday. The movie just let out. I thought I'd be able to eat before the movie, but the bus schedule said no. I'd forgotten it only runs hourly on Sunday. I ate a $4 hot dog in the theater, and the mustard I put on it provided more sustenance than the dog itself. I was hoping for some lag time between the end of the movie and the next bus, to at least get a muffin or something from the coffee place.

    Down the street to the bus stop, to double-check the schedule. Next bus: 8:45 PM. Next bus after that: 9:45 PM.

    8:28 PM. Poke my head into Mr. Spot's Chai House. As much as I want a chai latte, it's too late. I'd be up all night. Their baked-goods case is full of the things no one really wants but for some reason they stock it. I am a fool and pass this up.

    8:32 PM. Back to the Tully's coffeehouse a couple doors down from the theater. Muffins. Scones. Bagels with cheese on them. Aw yeah. Dude cuts in front of me... All he needs is a cup for water. No biggie. Barista: Can I start a drink order for you? No, just food. I'm third in line. The cashier is on the phone. He's writing on a cup, must be taking an order.

    Glancing around, there's a dozen or so people in here, half using laptops, half engaged in conversation, some of whom are all in black leather and look like they rode motorcycles here en masse. No motorcycles outside, though.

    Guy's still on the phone. Everyone's drink orders are filled. The barista taps the cashier. Hey, could you take this lady's money? He's still talking on the phone.

    "Yeah?"

    "Well, no."

    "OK."

    "No, really, OK."

    "But..."

    "I know, but..."

    "Look, let me..."

    "OK."

    "OK."

    "But..."

    "OK."

    I stare at him in the eyes. I'm in a hurry. 8:37 PM. I meet his eyes. I'm smiling, but only outside. He looks around. The others in line are so very polite, despite being clearly snubbed. I'm staring at him. He'd have two holes burned through his head if my gaze were capable.

    Phone beeps it's alarm. 8:40 PM. I must not miss this bus. I turn around. There are three people behind me in line. The first is a security guard who smirks conspiratorially. Like, yeah, what a dipshit, on the phone like that. Looking at my phone, I say, out loud, "Fuck," and head out towards the bus stop.

    I hear the cashier say: See? The line takes care of itself.

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