Coffee Spills

What I hear and see and think about at the coffee shops I patronize.
Brisk. Fresh. Well-balanced. Occasional nutty and bittersweet overtones.
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Saturday, March 19, 2005

Coffee Togs

A man in a long, mid-calf black windbreaker with a shoulder cape, plaid shirt, huge cowboy hat, cowboy boots carrying his car keys with a large neon orange plastic card attached, blows through the door of the coffee shop this morning. I watched as he left with his coffee, but he got into an older four door Buick, not a Mustang, Bronco or Charger.

A 40-ish woman drives up in a 2005 Lexus wearing a skirt made of light green and brown camouflage khaki type fabric, with a bright pink embroidered design on the seat, thong sandals on her manicured feet with painted toenails, a faded jeans jacket over a pink t-shirt, and a huge blinging rock on her left ring finger. The skirt had a string tie waist, and a string tie hemline, with cargo pockets so that in an emergency, she could bundle up her other designer clothes into a makeshift knapsack just by pulling tight the strings, and make her way undetected through the jungles of central Ohio. Practical folks, these rich people.


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