ChimpsAhoy

I work for Starbucks.

And to do my job well I need to be outgoing, wacky, and generally welcoming. On any given day, I say hello to 300-500 people who don’t care how my day is going. They care that they are under-caffienated. A problem that they trust I can fix. Yesterday I was working at the busiest store in the southwest (92nd Street and Shea) and served 100 said people in a half hour. For those not so good at math, that’s a lot of under-caffienated people.

But the point is this; I exert a lot of energy every day, and don’t receive much time to relax. Which is fine, I can embody all those happy, jaw-screwed-in-place-and-smiling adjectives on a normal basis. But it wears me out. So I treat myself to an evening alone every once in a while to recoup and rejuvenate.

One such night was last night…

I don’t have a typical routine, per se, but I have basic requirements that need to be met. Most important, solitude. Not silence, however. These two actions seem to go hand in hand quiet often. But I enjoy solitude without silence frequently. Second, beer is involved. Only one, just to take the edge off. Lastly, reading occurs. This is my favorite. Sometimes I get lost in the galaxies of David Sedaris‘ completely messed up childhood. Or maybe the fictional town of Thrums that J.M. Barrie(Peter Pan author) paints so beautifully in his novel Sentimental Tommy. Last night, however, I happened to bring along a couple of magazines. The New Yorker and Times to be precise.

But that’s not important. The crux of this story happens next.

After I finished the last piece of tortilla from my delicious carnitas burrito (with fajitas, pico, sour cream and extra cheese), I slammed home the final drops of the Negro Modelo that accompanied me to the table. It was still early, so I thought a trip to the Blockbuster store right next door would be a great addition to the evening. It was, but not because of the movies I picked up.

I like going into a movie store with no expectations. I talked with the guys at the front counter for a little bit about what they have seen recently, and decided on taking home Brick and Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. As I was walking around the outer wall to double check my decision the following scene happened:

Why Trailer Parks Should be (Securely) Gated Communities

ENTER
(A man and woman childishly flirting enter BLOCKBUSTER. MAN is mid to late twenties. Sleeveless muscle shirt with multiple tattoos. Pants well below socially acceptable line. Plaid boxers visible. WOMAN missing teeth. Does not hesitate to prove this fact. Laughs extremely loud.)

MAN and WOMAN reach display wall. Flirting ceases. MAN begins to peruse titles.

WOMAN, indifferent
Whad’da wanna see?

MAN, irritated but determined
Im’a lookin’. Damn.

(MAN sees the title POSIDEN)

WOMAN, still indifferent
What’s that?

MAN, excited
What we’re watchin’ a’night. It’s ’bout a boat!

WOMAN
Oh.

(MAN looks lovingly at movie cover and literally jumps for joy)

MAN, esctatic
I wanna see that movie ’bout snakes.

END SCENE

Now, I know that the scene really didn’t end there. That’s just when I had to turn away so as to not draw attention to the fact that I was laughing audibly at our new friends. The scene probably ended in the back end of a dusty trailer park full of busted Chevys and chained up pit bulls. But I guess that’s a little too stereotypical. Maybe they had a glass of wine before they enjoyed pure cinematic genius in the form of high priced special effects and a huge boat.

Yeah, that’s what happened.

Cheers,
Sam