I seriously thought I was in a hold up at Starbucks this morning.
Let me set the scene for you.
This particular Starbucks is in downtown Manhattan Beach.
The female demographic locally is well monied beauties that fun the gamut from big business alpha females to barely conscious living sex dolls.
And they all take yoga.
A couple of fairly cruel lines, but fairly true.
I watch people, its a little creepy, but its my thing.
So imagine my shock as I watched someone totally out of place for the area, walk into Starbucks.
Its morning primetime, so the line was to the front door, hooked a U turn and was three quarters of the way to the bathroom at the back.
Jeans, not fashionable ones, but more of the no name JC Penny type, stained.
Faded pendelton with the sleeves rolled.
Mullet, slightly greasy.
And the only two clues she is a woman is the lack of facial hair and the swell of breasts beneath the pendleton.
An old school dyke, rare in these parts.
Shouldn’t she be at Lilith Fair?
Ok, enough cheap shots.
But imagine my shock when a second woman, dressed EXACTLY the same, comes in.
As she passes the first woman, the both nod slightly, but pretty much ignore each other.
What the hell?
They are both in line, now.
Its like suddenly realizing that you are in an episode of Twilight Zone.
And then two more women came in, dressed exactly the same.
Same bare nod and then ignoring each other.
Screw Twilight Zone, this just became on of those shitty Quenton Tarantino films.
Like Kill Bill with Dykes instead of ninja’s.
I waited for the guns to come out.
It kind of has to be a robbery, doesn’t it?
Otherwise, this might be final proof that I am some sort of sexist asshole. (Like this is the only thing stopping you from thinking this for the last couple years.)
One by one, each butch got their coffee, meandered around a bit, then left.
And none of them ever acknowledged the other.
Weird? To say the least.
And maybe it is just a product of my vile imagination,
But if there are headlines tomorrow about a bank robbery pulled off by a crew of militant bull dykes?
Bittermac, witness for the prosecution.
(You will all owe me an apology.)