Bill’s head bobs and weaves as he searches out his next victim. Like rabbits sitting statue still, trying to avoid detection from a hawk circling the sky, women in the Starbucks line cringe, hoping his gaze will not fall upon them; most of them fully aware of the inane chatter and possible molestation that will follow.
“Good Morning, isn’t today special? We are just celebrating today.”
Victim number one, rummages through her purse, looking for her cell phone.
“ Look at this weather. Wouldn’t you love to have your toes in the sand and watch the waves roll in ? And look at you, aren’t you just special? “
Found her phone and pretends to text or check mail. Anything to avoid what is to come. But Bill is tenacious and will not allow a fake text to keep him from his ultimate goal, the obligatory hug, with the grope and grind follow up.
Feeling abused and dirty, she feigns a smile as Bill searches for number two.
I believe if Bill had one song looping in his head continuously it would be Beautiful Girls, by Van Halen, from their second release Van Halen II,
Of course, Bill isn’t the only person of interest to grace the main table at Starbucks each and every morning.
Next up is Taxi Driver.
Taxi Driver, (not his real name), had experience driving cabs and is always bragging about driving fares to the ghetto and getting tangled up in drug deals and other shenanigans. He is the supposed author of self help books, a motivational speaker, a magician and seller of gold. He is acquainted with million and billionaires yet drives a $500 Mercedes Benz. Navy Seals, mercenaries and cold blooded killers round out his buddy list. He is boisterous, obnoxious and drops F bombs in front of children and old ladies. His social filter is definitely in need of repair.
This song is representative of Mr. Taxi Driver. Dennis Leary nails it.
Of course, for every dickwad at the morning gathering there are a dozen decent and caring human beings who are great to be around.
There are Doctors,
And beautiful, single, successful women who I won’t even try to label or figure out.
And then there is me.
I started hanging out at the coffee shop when I decided to become part of the problem instead of the solution. Unemployed sums it up in a word. Like Studebaker Hawk from The Mothers of Invention song Billy The Mountain, I prefer to remain an enigma. My motto, keep them guessing.