Sunday Morning Coffee

The Starbucks store, a friendly place run by mostly young
people, sits on the edge of the city where I live. This is a
diversely and densely populated area and, on weekends,
the shop buzzes with people from all walks of life.

The half a dozen middle-aged Philopino guys come everyday
and often take the big table at the center. They are gregarous
and always seem to be talking, in their native tongue, about
something funny. A team of criket players stop by on Sunday
mornings, after the game. They look Indian engineers but
talk in English.

Others are quiet. Among them most seem to be students and
mostly Asians. An elderly Chinese couple often have their
breakfast and read the local news. They wear glasses and
have a scholarly air about them. I can tell they come from
the mainland. They speak fluent English. Sometimes they
bring a young kid, their grand-daughter, no doubt. A
school-girl often come in the morning with her mother and
her tutor. They look Afghan and would spend a couple of
hours working on math.

Among the regulars are two mentally challenged guys. They
look intimidating because of their sizes and quirks but
are harmless. One is a tall black man often looking agitated
and talking to himself, about someone's owing him money,
at one time. The other is about 5'7" and in his late 30s. He
seems liking a particular sofa. "Can I sit here?" he would
point at the chair and ask its incumbent, repeatedly until
he gets an answer. Most people not in the know would turn
him down flat with some uneasiness. He would give up and
move on. He sometimes asks for drinks, too. "Can you buy
me coffee?" Like Forrest Gump trying to get a bus-seat, he
would inquire everyone in line.

The girl must be in her early 20s. She was tall, beautiful, and
wearing a full head of golden curls as she walked in. Her
heavily ripped blue jeans and scanty white top showing her
tatoo-covered back and shoulders somehow made her appear
more innocent than sexy. As I joined the line after a weekend
long run, she was at the front and two persons ahead of me.

"Can you buy me coffee?" came an innocent request.
"No. I didn't bring cash today." I didn't know why I brought
up cash. Maybe I was thinking of a pan-handler on the street
asking for money. But he accepted my excuse and moved on.

"Buy me coffee?"
"No."

"Buy me coffee?"
The lady turned away.

"Can you buy me coffee?"
"Eh. OK. What do you want?" The girl hesitated first but
seemed to grasp what was happening quickly as the barista 
explained and asked as if nothing was wrong.
"I'd like a Grande latte."
"A Venti ice coffee and a Grande latte. Please?"

Everyone smiled.