America + Starbucks = Cult

America + Starbucks = Cult

Drusawna was still in love with America, but what she loved much more was making fun of it and its customs and awkward, but mostly lovable people. She was sitting in a coffee shop; the cult favorite by the name of Starbucks. She had only been back in the States for a week, but already, on her three visits she had found that there were long time regulars that not only talked to the baristas and cashiers, but talked to every customer as if they had been pals for years. At first, she had felt quite odd and awkward and out of the loop, but that was changed, however, when suddenly, she was accosted by a blue haired older woman.

"Excuse me," the woman said, tapping her cane against the carpeted floor and eying Drusawna as if she had just committed a great offense. Drusawna, being the sweet and kind sort of young lady she was, looked up from her newspaper (The New York Times, very informative, but very plain language) and gave the older woman an automatic — and genuine — smile.

"Yes, ma'am?" Simple enough, yes?

"You're in my seat," said the older woman, not pleased at all that Drusawna had managed a very polite and kind smile; as opposed to the oblique scowl smeared across the other woman's face. Apparently, Drusawna had missed one aspect of the homey cult comforts that came with Starbucks: seniority seats.

"Your name is on it, ma'am? I do apologize! Dearly! I had not seen a name and it had never crossed my mind to get up and look under the chair. Perhaps they figured the names would fare better there than on the cushion where it would get rubbed off by some irreverant bottom. Pardon me, ma'am. Enjoy your seat. Hopefully the cushion is not too warm from my derriere." Another sweet smile and she got up, much to the chagrin and anger of the old woman who waved her cane about.

Drusawna walked out of the Starbucks, latte in hand. She had learned a lesson that morning: check chairs for names.

The things you learn in life.