Tomorrow I’ll be flying, and I’ve found cross-country flights to be awesome blog material.  So, expect posts soon in that regard.

I’ve also got a two hour layover in Chicago.  That’s a perfect time to write another riddle to post this Friday.

So… my apologies to loyal readers and I promise regular posts will return by Friday, if not sooner.

Share on Facebook

Is it really good coffee?  Arguable.  Is it the post-high school barista behind the counter that has encyclopedic knowledge of coffee, grinds, and flavored syrup?  No, they make me feel stupid.  Sometimes I think they make up words just to see if anyone notices.

“Welcome to Starbucks, would you like to try our new Cafe Ochorina with cinnamon or a Triple Rumplemint Frappamochaspresso?”

“Um… ok.”

“And what size would you like that?”

“Medium.”

“Sir, our sizes are “piney”, “umbligo”, and “Vesuvius”

“Is one of those medium?”

“You’ll have to leave, sir.  Try the Dunkin Donuts around the corner.” 

It must be the room.

Something about the dark wood and husky green coloring of those Starbuck’s interiors seems to be a magnet for people who have to much free time and income.  I was wandering around a book store and meandered into the attached Starbucks.  Starbucks seem to latch on to popular chain bookstores like ticks.  Nothing makes someone want to buy coffee they can’t afford more than buying books they’ll never read.  Unless, of course, you plop down on the bench in the coffee shop and just start reading away. 

The Starbucks I saw, and like every other one I’ve seen, was full of people.  Two of them were paying customers.  Most had been paying customers at some points in their lives which seemed to entitle them to free wi-fi and unlimited hang out time.  It was standing room only in there.  Pretty busy for 10.30pm on a weeknight.  I thought maybe it was a post-book club party or maybe some sort of social scene.  It wasn’t.  The Starbucks was full of individuals ignoring each other.

At one end of the bar were two Asian girls, that might have been 15, having a conversation.  They weren’t actually speaking, just mouthing words since both were plugged into their respective iPods and rocking to portable tunes.  Each also had a laptop.  One was on the Hello Kitty homepage and the other on a CNN story about Japanese gangs.  I wondered if the rest of the bar had other stereotypes to see.

There was a six person table filled with six laptops and and six people huddled over the screens casting a sickly white-blue glow on their faces.  I’d seen this before in computer gamers… all huddled around blowing something up or saving a princess.  These guys weren’t cooperating or fighting or interacting in anyway.  Despite the shared space, each was in their own little world.  The guy on the end, who didn’t like me looking over his shoulder, was writing poetry. 

“I am a tree, I am a tree. Look at me.  Being a tree.”

The poem was 52 pages long but that was the gist of it.  He was listening to an iPod as well, but only put in one earpiece… maybe he was expecting a call.  The lady next to him was reading her e-mail outloud to herself.  I thought she might have been talking to me and when I responded she looked horrified and told me to mind my own business.  She then continued to read her e-mail aloud.  Apparently she’s a guidance counselor.

The guy at the other end of the table was asleep and his laptop battery long dead.  For a few minutes I wondered if he, too, had expired.  He scratched the spot on his head where hair used to live and continued napping.  The other people at the table were less interesting although I’m sure the scripts that each was writing were awesome.  I’m sure George Lucas will be excited to know that a budding writer on the east coast is writing a new screenplay for a movie he’s already filmed.  Similarly, horror fans might like to find that a new scary novel called “The Brightening” is on the way.  It’s about a guy named Nick Jackelson who goes to Colorado and stays in a big hotel that’s haunted.  The last creative piece might never come to be.  The final author was just staring blankly at a title screen that said, “Larry Potter: Wizard Boy of Washington”.  He had body odor.

The rest of the Starbucks went on like that.  Lots of individuals doing their thing.  I wondered why they bothered.  The internet doesn’t rise and set in Starbucks.  They weren’t going buck wild on the $7.50 scones.  They all had coffee cups long bereft of liquid.  Why stay there?  Why not just keep to your mom’s basement or your dorm room?

Maybe all of these people enjoyed hanging out in a place that celebrated a poor “Apple to Common Sense” ratio.  Maybe.

Maybe they wanted to form a club unofficially.  It had members but no rules, officers, or policies.  Attendance was optional, the purpose was vague.  I think that’s how the Republican Party got started.

Maybe they just really liked the smell of coffee.  Maybe they all had crushes on the barista.  I have no idea. 

All that I know is that if you want to go to a Starbucks and sit down at a table with your overpriced, burnt coffee you’d better get there early.  Faster than squatters at a Buffet show, the Starbucks regulars will descend on the place like locusts with hair gel and iPads… destroying all available seating in their path.

Share on Facebook

It was about 3.00AM and there was no one in sight for miles.  At this time of night, many of the area stoplights aren’t operating normally.  They flash red in one direction and yellow in another.  Yellow flashing lights mean you have the right of way, red flashing lights mean to treat the intersection like a stop sign.  You stop… look around… and go on your way.

That’s what I did.  I approached the first red flashing light.  I stopped.  I fiddled with the radio for a second.  Noticed the Chuckles wagon behind me.  I made my left turn. 

I went about a quarter of a mile before I came to another flashing red light.  I was going straight here.  The far right lane was for going straight or turning right.  The left two lanes were for turning left.  It was in these left two lanes that Chuckles came screaming to a halt.  He slammed on his brakes and put his car at an angle in front of mine, essentially blocking my access to the intersection.  He had his windows down and was yelling and screaming at me.  He was flashing his lights and laying on the horn as well.  It was really hard to understand what this guy was yelling about.  As best I could tell, he was very angry at me for making an illegal left turn.  Very very angry.  As he continued cussing and blowing the horn, I felt his anger was rising… probably because I was laughing at him.  I decided I needed to get out of there.  Just as I put my car in reverse, I saw blue lights in my rear-view mirror.  A state trooper flew on the scene at speed and parked directly behind me.

I was now trapped between a crazy man, a trooper and a telephone poll.

The trooper got out of his car and headed toward my driver’s window.  Chuckles was still blowing the horn.  Upon seeing the cop, however, Chuckles leapt from his vehicle and advanced toward the officer quickly… still yelling and frothing.  The trooper pulled his gun.  I slunk down in my seat with my hands up over my head.  The trooper very calmly, but forcefully told the man to get back in his vehicle and calm down.  Chuckles got back in the van, but continued yelling.  The trooper called for back up.

A county officer showed up shortly.  I actually think he was driving by and saw the scene.  When he arrived, the trooper went over to talk to Chuckles.  The county cop came to talk to me.  I gave him my license and stuff and told him the same story I’ve written here.  I could also hear Chuckles relating my lawlessness to the trooper in the van too.  He was convinced that I’d run a red light and that he was making a citizen’s arrest.  “Punks like me needed dealin’ with”.  The officers also questioned his awareness of the lights and their flashing status.

After a few minutes, the trooper came over to my window and told me that I could go.  He said that I was clearly the victim of a delusional man.  He took my contact information and said to have a safe evening.  He moved his vehicle and I backed out.  As I was leaving I saw another county police car arrive and in the rear-view mirror I saw Chuckles going through the paces of a field sobriety test.

What was supposed to be a five minute stop had turned into an hour long ordeal.

And the worst part… I had grabbed the wrong flavor of Gatorade.

Share on Facebook

Twelve little soldiers standing in a row,
If you follow my guidance, your line will grow.

What am I?

Share on Facebook

Three brilliant jewels, all in a row.
Amber, emerald, and ruby; brightly they glow.
When noticed, we’re often the cause of great  strife,
When ignored, it could mean the end of your life.

What am I?

Share on Facebook