From: "How to Survive New England"

Higher Grounds

Just try and go for a quiet cup of coffee when you run out of your own, I dare ya. Now this coffee shop may be too large, because the sister with her loud cell phone conversation, encourages me to respond to some of the questions we don't get to hear her gynecologist give her the answers to. I will her to look my way, so that she may know I'm not the only one that's listening. She finally turns around and I flash a knowing smile, as if we are old friends. She is indignant so I flash her again, this time with my hand in phone formation, going beu, beu, beu. She gets it, and ends her conversation as she explains to the listener that she has no privacy!

Then there's the retired gentlemen in their own coffee clutch, pointing their fingers at one another and laughing at each others jokes, loudly. At least it's laughter, but it's still too loud. The acoustics in here are terrific, I should stand up and sing an aria from Macbeth.

The Alan Rickman lookalike in the corner, is also on his cell phone (cell phones shouldn't be allowed in public like this since the public has no sense of propriety, privacy or introspection), pleading for one more chance. I'm thinkin', C'mon! Take it outside, get a room! Or, is he trying to gather sympathy from the listeners around him? He won't get any from me. Since he lacks any grace available to keep his voice down, I can't blame the woman, or man, on the other end, for ending whatever they may have had. He's a whiner, he needs a piece of cheese to go with this whine, it hasn't aged yet, so perhaps something young, made from yogurt.

The ginormously rotund man buying bagels and butter, while I was getting a refill, tells the young woman behind the counter that he's leaning on, that “she was cute as a button.” I had to give it to him for balls, since he turned to me and asked if I agreed! Naturally, I said “No! That I would never speak to an adult that way, especially in public.” Then he said, “Then you're not like me!” Duh! I said, “True, I try not to talk down to people that are serving me my breakfast, lest I find shards of glass in my food!” He didn't seem to be able to close his mouth after that, shook his head and left without any further need to be congratulated, for being so uselessly jovial to the woman who had no choice but to be kind to him. He obviously mistook her polite and well practiced smile, as if she were in agreement with him.

Am I sounding cynical yet? If not, do read on! The only thing quiet about the coffee shop, is the coffee itself.

Then there's the couple from Hanover, or Lyme, sitting not too far to my left in their own booth, with their traditional colors and finery, and some kind of class (Dartmouth class of 46?) that distinguishes them from the rest of the crowd. He is hearty, friendly, offering me a warm smile since I'm staring at them. She, slim, with a cold stare, tries to share the good natured look he gives me, but can not. Instinctively, she considers me a threat, and bullies him until he agrees to leave; which was what brought me into this story in the first place, but not annoying enough to be at the beginning.

The woman sitting in a large booth by the window, close to my age, clutching her paper coffee cup, is dabbing at her lips and forehead with a napkin. Hot Flash! Yes, the ceramic coffee cups hold more heat, but they won't fall apart when your hands gets sweaty. Just watching her makes me start to sweat in agreement, so I get out my cloth fan and cool off. She sees this and starts fanning herself with her newspaper. We acknowledge our cooling techniques and laugh. Ya gotta laugh, this keeps ya from crying, or killing.

So here we all are: talking, chewing, laughing, and listening while my pen starts to run out of ink. My ever reliable pilot, with the superfine tip that served me well, until today. But that's alright, because I've entered the land of the dazed and ungrounded, while we wait for enough caffeine to hit our arteries, kidneys and adrenal glands.  And me? I'm waiting for the Co-op to open so I can get some organic coffee, that won't make me sweat as much as this stuff, the more chemically produced product that most Americans are addicted to, loudly.