When a forty-something woman pushing a dual stroller with two toddlers in it can walk into Starbucks in a pair of daisy-dukes and a wife beater, and looks hot. You know you are in southern California.
This is one of the busier Starbucks in Down town Manhattan Beach, 1 block from the pier.
As folks roll in for their morning fix, you cannot help but notice the style of dress and how radically it can change from one person to another.
In line right now. A woman in her late forties, business suit, severe heels and may have been a playboy bunny in her twenties, that hot.
A girl in her early twenties, heavily texting. She is dressed in sweats, t-shirt and hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail. She rolled out of the rack and came here. She has to be going home after this, mainly because you cannot go anywhere but Starbucks while looking like this. Starbucks has a more flexible atmosphere.
The bike people. Three of them, men, in their fifties maybe. They must have missed the cut for the Tour de France this year, but it was not for lack of equipment. The bikes they leaned up against the news racks out front cost the same as new economy cars.
The aforementioned hot mom has now been joined by a friend in a pair of yoga stretch pants and a skin tight top. Were forty-somethings always this hot?
There is a homeless guy in line, silently waiting for his morning coffee and donut. He sits on the corner about a block away and talks angrily to himself all day, but when he is in Starbucks, he is quiet and polite. Like he realizes that its an odd place to be. He just wants his stuff with a minimum of fuss.
I was more than a little intrigued. I followed the homeless guy as he left. He noticed me walking behind him and stepped off to the side to let me go by. I stop and stare.
We talk and kind of meander down the street for a few moments. He recognizes me. I have given him some change a few times as I walk by at lunch. His name is Garrett. He likes Starbucks because of their atmosphere and corpororate policies. He dislikes Coffee Bean because he feels their environmental policies are disingenuous. Evidently when he mutters to himself he is wading thru corporate policy.
As we walk, I am kind of amazed at how lucid the angry homeless guy that talks to himself is. We walk up to Noahs bagels and I buy bagels with creamcheese.
As we sit out front and eat, the look of total disdain being heaped on us by the other patrons is huge.
I find myself enjoying it more than is proper. I think I may be doing this more to be an ass than to do something nice for Garrett, who it turns out is pretty cool for a crazy homeless guy.
And I’m ok with that.