Lesson 102: The Urban Coffee Campsite

Not being a hermit on weekdays between the hours of nine and five typically includes at least one day per week part-taking in the “coffee campsite”. Luckily there are no less than ten of these in my immediate area, all jam-packed and resembling library study rooms where people are actually allowed to talk, but choose not to. This is where other like-minded freelancers and job-seekers who also don’t want to be hermits go to sit at large communal tables with multiple devices trying to look busy and important, and as if they have no time for conversation when in fact, that’s all they really want - Otherwise they’d be at libraries. It is arguably the safest, most “normal” passively social environment...a place the hermit-not-want-to-be’ers go to, well, be hermits...but in front of people. Or maybe I’m just guilty of that, but I have a gut feeling I’m not alone.

So, with the motivation obtained from Lesson 101, I regress a pinch by fully accepting that I never actually get any work done when I embark on these journeys of sitting in not my house doing exactly what I’d be doing in my house, because I’m too fascinated by watching other people sit in not their houses doing exactly what they would be doing in their houses. We check our phones every ten and a half seconds, but are sure to slink back and look casual about it as if to anticipate not caring when, shockingly, no one has tried to reach us in the past ten and a half seconds. Insert sip of beverage, refresh all open tabs, check phone again, look around to confirm that everyone around you is doing the same thing, annnnnd then, uh-oh...here comes the dreaded needing to plug in your low-battery 3 year old Macbook. How un-hip of you (me), you poor soul who lacks an iPad. Luckily, this is where observing people becomes interesting...especially when the person in need of the charge is not seated directly over an outlet. This means that you must interact with whomever is over the nearest outlet, which means they kind of own you since they have the power, literally. Mo’ Joe is now forced to either A) Reach over without saying anything, and plug in as if the person there does not exist, or B) Bite the bullet and give ‘em a, “Hey, excuse me - mind if I use that outlet?” Quite often, asking to use outlets in coffee shops has now become the only possible sparking-up of conversation...the immediate motivation being that we simply wish to continue to quietly glue our hands to our electronic pacifiers...while secretly pining for human contact, of course.

Well today, I took a computer break. I followed up my epic errand running with a book purchase. Like an actual book book, with pages and stuff. How refreshing, when paired with my large-enough-to-keep-me-here-for-while (but not for too long) iced coffee. I was astonished when I went to sit down and the man next to me poked his head up from his Mactop and asked me if I needed more room. I thanked him, shook my book in the air, smiled, and said I was not packing heat today, so no. There was even another girl reading a book book nearby. Rebels, we were. Still, I could not help but go into my observer mode. Another dude came and joined Mactop dude next to me and they started excitedly discussing what they were working on. I was curious, as I often wonder what the fuck people are doing during the day on their computers out in public. Well, apparently they were creating an app for a game where some cartoon character pees on things in order to reach the next level. I kid not. They discussed it as if they were CEO’s of a prestigious hedge fund. I smiled to myself and acknowledged that they were being productive, probably making a lot of money, and that I wished I had invested in skills enabling me to create games where cartoons get away with public urination. There was another almost invisible guy sitting across from me, but he did not flinch himself away from his iPad even once. I admired his discipline. I, on the other hand was obviously distracted from my reading, and had taken to making abstract water mark art with the condensation from my coffee cup. iPad guy wrinkled his face and looked at my masterpiece splattered on the thick wood table as he collected his things and left. I wanted to remind him that that is what we all once did to entertain ourselves growing up, although he looked like he was most likely born around 1992. I then just felt old, but cheered to myself for not being a hermit. My table water art was just a minor exercise in staying creative, which is another lesson altogether.