The Time – A Sunday morning

The Date – December 11

The Place –  A Coffee House

The Weather – Cold with a chance of flurries, it is almost mid -December after all.

The Cast – Me, at least a dozen college students with laptops and phones sprawled over more tables than they need or should be allowed to use ostensibly doing homework.  Ha!

Show of hands of who ever did college homework on a Sunday morning in a coffee house or anywhere.  I thought so.  Also a smattering of adults and the usual Sunday morning friends behind the counter.

It’s warm inside the coffee shop almost to the point of being stuffy but given the outside temeperature stuffy is more than ok.

I’m sitting on a black vinyl circa 1958 style couch in the “screen free zone” where a small sign demands ” Read a Dang Book!”

I’m lost in my mug gazing out the floor to ceiling window watching flurries gently fall in a way no modern computer generated snow can ever hope to re-create.

Recall the scene on that bridge where Jimmy Stewart discovers his mouth is bleeding from the split lip he received at Martini’s Bar and Grill.   That snow effect was generated by a couple of  union grips in the rafters over Jimmy’s head with several lines attached to numerous snow bags.  Now that’s a special effect.

My phone is lost in one of my coat pockets.  I am observing the screen prohibition.

I’m somewhere else, I don’t know where but between the warm cup in my hands, the cold, grey snow outside and the quiet hum in the room it’s a really nice, far away place.

I snap back to right now when I hear ” Hey, this ain’t France, they might charge you rent if you sit there all day” says a friend smiling as he exits the building back into the chilled December air.

Dang, to borrow a previous word, he’s right, sadly, it’s not France.  I have no snappy comeback and there’s not one called for or needed.

It would have been great if I could spout something back at him in French by way of a reply but Je n’ai rien compris * as they say. I really don’t have all day to nurse this cup of coffee but it’s nice to think of that being an option.

Hey, this ain’t France.

In France they kiss on Main Street.

I have that on good authority.

 

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