My regular morning trip for a deceive skim latte {oh how I miss the caffeine high of days past!}, wasn't the usual generic experience it is every work day. Or perhaps my eyes were wide open this morning and I actually paid more attention to my surroundings, instead of just going through the motions.
Typically, a counter person identifies me in line, acknowledges me with a smile, and when I make my way to their register, he or she practically calls out my order before it's even out of my mouth. Which makes sense, since I haven't varied the formula in a year or so. Pleasantness are exchanged, a comment on pretty earrings or the humid weather, I await my foamy drink, take a sip, and leave. Mission Coffee: Accomplished.
Today was the same, except for the very vocal woman in line in front of me. I'll call her Lucinda. All I heard at first was a one-sided, volume-amplified conversation occurring a few folks in front of me. Something about "She's out of town and doesn't know I'm coming, but I'm sure she won't mind if I stay there." Etcetera, etcetera. My local SB is usually a pretty quiet place ... people speak as though they are in an elevator, with hushed voices and surreptitious glances. People meet in twos and threes at tables, holding conversations, and folks sit alone in the comfy chairs to read the morning's news or work on term papers and reports on their laptops.
Lucinda's loud conversation continues, and she pauses to grumpily place her order, and moves on in due form. As I'm off to the side, awaiting the delivery of my drink, I take a look at her.
In this fashion-conscious coffee shop, where people come dressed in their office attire mostly, she's sweaty and scantily clad in workout gear. Long leggings, faded sports bra. Hair pulled back in a ponytail and bag slung over her shoulder.
Lucinda is not a petite woman, and is unselfconciously baring more skin than most, and more than I would in such a public place full of inquiring eyes. She's clearly been working out, in pursuit of health and well-being, something I've been too lazy to commit to of late.
There is no climax to this story, no raison d’être. I simply found it refreshing that this woman was sunconcernednd with perception, that she was happy being her loud, sweaty self in a room full opreppiepy, selconsciousus people.
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