People Watching in a Coffee Shop

Coffee shops are one of the most calming places I find myself in these days, second only to used bookstores. Not the chain stores like Starbucks or Carribou, though my Barry Road Starbucks is still a place I frequent often. I’m talking one of a kind coffee places, where you never find the same decor in another place. Places that welcome visitors with one of a kind experiences and flavors to try. Places that are crowded with people from all walks of life, whether hipsters, business men, college students or old couples enjoying the afternoon together. Places that you can plop down in a nice leather chair, sit back with a house cup, and enjoy the atmosphere.

I like going to these places to people watch. Strangers can be truly fascinating things. Before I started this monologue of coffee shops, I was sitting in a corner facing away from all the people. What’s the fun in that? You can’t observe the life going on around you. Granted, now I’m in a corner room where the subjects I can watch are the ones going to and from the bathroom and the guy who is most likely a college student sitting about 10 feet away. He’s very interested in his phone instead of his computer and he’s thrown his head back in frustration a few times. Maybe he’s in a fight with someone. He’s smiled at me a few times; I hope he figures out his problems.

I feel as though coffee shops have the potential to be one of the most romantic places on the planet. Imagine: you sit down across the room from a beautiful stranger. They glance up and you share a smile. You leave your things to go retrieve your beverage, only to trip and spill the stuff all over the ground just inches away from your destination. The stranger jumps up to help mop up the mess as you mutter how much of a klutz they must think you are. They laugh along with you at your situation. As you wipe up the coffee, you lock eyes. Both hearts skip a beat. A little spark has been lit. After the napkins have been tossed and the damage is cleared, they insist on replacing the drink. You sit and talk, getting to know each other. You learn they’re at university not too far away from your own, and that they’ve seen you every now and then at this place drinking out of one of the red house cups. You explain how you want to travel, and exchange stories about your global travels with high school youth groups. They laugh at your terrible jokes. You giggle at their awful puns. As weeks go by, you see each other more and more frequently. A bond had been made; a match made in a coffee shop.

Oh what a life that would be if romance were started by my habit of spilling things. I know it wouldn’t be with this guy across the room. He just cursed and pocketed his phone. He did ask how I was doing though before he took out his notebook. I’m trying not to be nosy, so I can’t tell if he’s drawing or writing. I’m assuming it’s the latter, as he’s mouthing something and leaned his head back again. Poor fella. At least he has a cool jacket in a heap on the chair next to him. I wish it were a little less cold so I could wear mine.

I think I accidentally snapped Leather Jacket Guy back into reality by my cup clattering back onto the saucer. In about 20 minutes, I’ll be walking out the doors into reality once again. It’s too bad my friends couldn’t join me today, but then again, if they had come, I wouldn’t have been able to get my coffee shop prince fantasy out onto paper. Is fantasy the right word?