Circling the underground maze. Finding a space. Backing in...slowly. Inch, inch, inch. Wouldn't want to hurt my husbands bumper. Stop. Finish song on radio. Climb out of truck. Floor 2. Watch for "traffic". Find elevator. Push the *1 button. Wait. 21-person capacity. You have got to be kidding me. Imagining myself multiplied across the elevator in a 4 by 5 grid. Okay, maybe 20 people if they are all me-sized, but come now, have you seen the suburbs lately? They are not all me-sized. I guess this is a city elevator, maybe suburb elevators would approximate differently.
Doors open and I'm out on the street in search of the nearest bathroom. A kind looking woman is stopping me to talk about an environmental agency concerned with rivers, mercury, and something about not eating fish if I'm pregnant. Am I pregnant? I had shrimp last night. My period is eight days late. Two different tests have produced only the single "not pregnant" line. I'm not pregnant. I need to find a restroom.
Lady, I wish I had the money to help clean the rivers. I can't even afford health insurance right now and I could be pregnant. Look, I won't eat fish okay? But let me have my priorities. My priorities which include finding a bathroom, and not supporting your cause right now. How 'bout I take a brochure. Okay, thanks.
Bookstore. Bathroom found! Hallelujah chorus. Bathroom in a bookstore - THE bookstore. So many books. Bathroom conveniently located next to the books I want to buy - but can't. Kierkegaard and cookbooks. How can a girl resist? But I do. Besides, how many books do I currently have that I haven't finished?
Triumphantly leave the book city without purchasing anything and sink into an Italian coffee shop to write and read and enjoy a cappuccino. Crazy thing these coffee houses. Find out Starbucks just bought these guys too. Damn them! They want to own the whole coffee industry. Priorities. For them: global domination. Okay. For me: find a new coffee shop not owned by Starbucks.
I can't believe how many coffee shops there are now. I don't even drink caffeine, nor like trends, and yet even I am a sucker for a good coffee shop. They are the modern city square. That place where everyone gathers and converses and you get to know the regulars. It's a beautiful thing, community.
Maybe that's why I secretly hate drive-thrus. I won't go - never mind I don't drink coffee - but why would you? Take FIVE more minutes and park somewhere, stand in line, observe people, remember that there are more people in the world than you, your boss, and bad drivers. Face it, we all think everyone else on the road is a bad driver. I have a friend who admits to being a bad driver, but boasts that she is at least better than her husband. Anyway, back to your line. Order your drink from a person - enjoy the first sip without a lid. Come on now, LIVE. Stop existing and start recognizing the moments of your life that are trying to find you! Smile at people. Start to recognize people. Get back in your car and breath as you drive. Realize all the other people aren't bad drivers all the time, but just when they stop at the drive-thru for coffee. Crazy thing these coffee houses. That's where the conversation is happening. That's where our young intelligentsia are congregating. That's where I can chat with people about Kierkegaard. Lovely.
I'm headed back to the underground cavern that's holding my car. Ooh...there's that cute store I saw the other day. What isn't cute in here? Cute housewares and cute clothes. I'm not dressed funky enough to be shopping here. I haven't found a box I'm comfortable labeling me just yet.
I think I need these earrings, very modern-antique. So I haven't worn earrings in ten years, that's because I didn't own THESE. NO. Put them back. Ooh...find cute mugs. Pick out and "A" one for Husband, and an "M" for me. Sales rack?! Uh oh, cute shirt. Wow, that's a sales price? I can't afford shopping here. Buy the shirt anyway...and the mugs. All that and they don't even validate parking.
Back on the 21-person capacity elevator. Button 2. Hold the elevator for another shopping woman, also parked on 2. Who are the people that find spaces on the first level of parking garages? I want to know. It's never happened to me. I want the secrets.
Climb back into truck, shopping back sitting next to me. Sigh. Sometimes I swear the harder I try not to consume things that I don't need the more it bites me in the end. Pass up a $12 book I would cherish for two more mugs and a shirt that's pink. I don't wear pink. What's wrong with me anyway?
