Hotel Starbucks

I dropped my daughter off at a play date, oh wait a minute, she’s eleven, so I dropped her off to “hang out” with a friend. I decided to stop into a Starbucks and treat myself to a fancy cup of coffee and hopefully get off my feet for a few minutes. Finding a Starbucks in Manhattan is easy; it’s like finding hay in a haystack. Within two blocks I was at one of the ubiquitous Starbucks that dot the New York City streets like freckles on Clay Aiken’s face.

Lousy economy or not, apparently people are still digging deep down in their pockets to shell out an extra few bucks for a little luxury in a cup. As always, the place was packed. I haven’t gotten a seat at a Starbucks since the first time Anne Heche was straight. I got my cup ‘a joe and looked around for a place to sit. As always, I was forced to walk past all those java squatters in their fluffy, comfy chairs and head over to the skinny bar by the window. Good for people watching, not so good for tired legs.

I noticed that the folks in the chairs seemed smug and self satisfied, like they had something I wanted, which was true. They slowly sipped their caramel macchiato, and I mean SLOWLY. It was clear that I wasn’t going to get near an open seat unless there was a fire drill.

Looking around I noticed everyone had large bags with them. They were the bags that had been filled with books, newspapers and laptops, which now covered their chairs, laps and tables. Then it occurred to me, “My God, people are living here!” It all made sense to me! They have everything they need, their computers, cell phones, food, yummy deserts, and of course, coffee. There are bathrooms and it’s warm in the winter and cool in the summer. You can “work from home” on your computer and you always have a place to meet your friends.

This must be what happened to all those people who lost their homes! They moved into Starbucks! It’s not that I’m not sympathetic, but when do I get to relax and enjoy my café mocha? The java squatters are forcing us to take our Latte’s to the street, or even worse, our own homes! That’s where we’re stuck with kids and spouses who bug us, where we can’t relax because every time we look around we see an unfinished project or something that has to be cleaned. When do our butts get their day in the sun? This trend will only get worse. It’s only a matter of time before Ronald, Mayor MacCheese and The Hamburgler aren’t the only residents of MacDonald’s!