A writer writing and sipping coffee - Standing on the corner watching people go by

For a thousand years, writers have been sitting in coffee shops (and bars) writing stories.



This morning, I am loitering on a street corner, in front of Starbucks, sipping my coffee. I watch a sea of humanity stream out of the Metro train station across the street into the courtyard. So many people. The stream comes in waves lasting two minutes or so. It’s as if the train has an upset stomach and is heaving up people.

The first thing I notice is everyone pulls out their cell phone as they emerge from underground into the sunshine. They walk on staring at the little screen, Gotta check for messages just in case it's the end of the world and I must save it, like the teen-age girl always does in those alien invasion disaster movies.

A pair of blonde women emerge. They are holding hands. They are pretty and dressed in professional light grey suits and white blouses. Finance banker types, if you ask me. They kiss, much lip touching and a full length body closeness that comes with new love. Each goes off in separate directions. The new normal in America.

A young black woman drops her scarf as she crosses the street. An older white man calls out, "Miss!" He bends, his arms flailing wildly - beer belly paunch in the way - picks up the scarf and hands it to her. She smiles and thanks him. We have terrible race problems in America but there is still lots of kindness too.

A Chinese woman splits from the crowd and stops in front of me. She is middle aged, slender, and short enough that I can see the top of her head and her thinning black hair.

She looks up at me, hands me a business card, and says an accented, "Where?"
It’s for some home health care office nearby. I point towards the backside of the building, saying "two blocks," and gesture two fingers in a V.

She says, "Thank you, thank you," bows a couple of times, and walks on towards the back of the building.

I am not the only one watching the crowd. The police are here too, a Sergeant and three officers, standing near the station's exit. They are wearing puffy bulletproof vests that gives them a barrel-chested body builder look. Their riot helmets remind me of the ones skateboarders wear - round with slots on the side and probably on top too for cooling air to pass. Their rifles, M16s I think, are slung on their shoulders with the muzzles pointing to the ground. They can swing up the rifles and shoot, very quickly if necessary.

Another new normal in America -- police officers on city streets dressed in battle gear like soldiers in a war zone.

Inevitably, my people-watching turns into girl-watching. It’s at moments like this that I appreciate the sartorial splendor of women in short skirts and women, including the thick women, wearing spandex leggings to work.

A parade of pretty women walk by. Do you suppose pretty girls are lonely? Beautiful women can intimidate guys. I know that some of the pretty women in my office are single, and single for quite some time.

The women are guy-watching too. It's fair. One or two look me over as I look them over. We are all thinking, Hmm, yummy!

My deep thought of the day - you rise to your level of beauty or fall to your level of ugliness.

My reverie is disturbed by a couple yelling at each other, a vigorous debate about where was he last night and how it's none of her business.

Out of the blue, the lady pulls up her tee with one hand and pulls down her sweat pants with the other.

She screams, "Take a look at this pussy,"

Damn, it’s all over before I can take a picture.

My cell phone chimes in the midst of this excitement. Work calls. It’s a text of my daily TO DO list from the Company.


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