Inland, Dreaming of Waves

Starbucks is everywhere

What a weird evening. Todd had rehearsal for Orpheus Descending, and I had to attend a presentation on the Galapagos Islands to see if it was good enough to amuse the people at the Boulder Bird Club. So he drove me to Changes in Latitude, the travel store in Boulder that was hosting the program, and told me he would pick me up when the play was done. Apparently, everyone in Boulder wanted to see this program. The place was packed! I had to stand for more than an hour, and the first part of the program was nothing but endless pictures of coastal scrub and lava rocks. Just as I was beginning to wonder if there were any birds in the Galapagos, he got to the pictures of blue-footed boobies. Thank god for boobies. I might have fallen over on the people in front of me if they hadn't appeared.

When I talked to Charlie afterward, he said he could shorten the presentation for the BBC and focus more on birds. No, I didn't walk up and say, "Hey, that was so damn boring! Can you shorten it?" I just mentioned that it was a little long for the BBC's spring meeting, which is only 2 hours or so and requires at least some socializing before staring at pictures of birds.

So here I was, all alone in Boulder on a cold night at 8:40. Todd wouldn't be done until 10. I had planned to go to the Boulder Library and work on a poem, but I decided that I'd try the 24-hour Starbucks instead, which was only a few blocks away. Well, who'd have thought that students at CU actually studied? There was not an empty seat in the place. I couldn't very well stand there with a mocha and hover over the college students--that would have been humiliating--so I got a drink and took it down the street with me, mentally mapping Boulder and calculating how far I had to walk to get to a place where I could sit. Finally I went to Safeway and sat at the tables near their in-store Starbucks, which was closed.

I guess I'm condemned to sit at Starbucks, whether it's open or not.

There was a man there, who seemed pretty obviously homeless. He was eating from a carton of ice cream. I sat there with my magazine and my poem and my drink and hoped nobody would ask me for money or run me out of the place. How pathetic. I don't have an obvious place to go for an hour and I get all depressed. I used to walk most places and ride the bus everywhere else--I have definitely gotten soft. I wonder how people who are homeless cope with their disability to go somewhere and sit as if they belong.

posted by Price of Silence @ 10:51 PM