Over the holiday weekend, I’d been at home nursing a cold that’s been going around. I’m not thrilled that it’s happening over a holiday weekend, but what can I do?
Having run out of my favorite tea, I decided to venture out to Starbucks for a refill. Plus, I was craving some fresh air. It was a quiet enough afternoon on the patio at Starbucks on Pear and Shoreline, so I decided to take in a dose of sunshine there. There were a couple of ladies sitting at one table, clearly sharing some “catch up” time. The other occupied table sat an older couple planning which festivals they would visit over the course of the weekend.
As I sat down at my table, I briefly saw a shiny black BMW convertible parking on the street. Inside were a couple of teenagers, someone I presumed to be their dad, and a beautiful German Shepard. Good day for a convertible, I thought.
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Settled in, I sipped my tea, opened the newspaper and began reading…
“YOU FORGOT THE (BLEEP) LEASH?! ARE YOU (BLEEP)ING KIDDING ME?! HOW STUPID ARE YOU?”
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I looked up startled, as did the people at the other two tables. It took us a few seconds to realize who was screaming. It was the dad from the convertible, yelling at the kids. While the dad was yelling and flailing his arms a bit, looking around the car, the kids just kept walking without skipping a beat. I could hear the two ladies express their disbelief that he would yell so loudly at the kids. The older couple just shook their heads. We all looked at each other, silently asking each other “What was THAT really about?”
Yet, I thought less about the dad’s yelling and more about the kids reaction…or lack thereof. They literally did not skip a beat from the curbside to their destination: Quiznos. Were they so used to his yelling and the colorful words he used that it no longer phased them? I decided that I should shut my brain off from this line of questioning, but also hoped it wouldn’t escalate.
A few minutes later, the chatter on the patio suddenly stopped. I looked up from the paper, only to see the dad and kids seated at a table. The kids were talking in whispers, and the dad spoke very little, but looked around each time he did speak. Guilty conscience? Probably not. I went back to reading the paper when a few minutes I heard…
“Poor George Zimmerman. Do you think he’ll ever be able to find another job? He could work in security.”
Again, I looked up to see another small group had occupied the patio. This group was made up of an older woman, two more teenagers and a woman I presumed to be their mother. The older couple from before simply looked at each other, stood up and left the patio. The two friends that were chatting earlier also decided to vacate.
I stayed a bit longer, for purely selfish reasons. You see, the older woman that made the statement was Caucasian. The two teenagers and their mother were of mixed race. The look on their faces when she asked the question was a bit priceless. I interpreted the mother’s expression was a mixture of “Are you kidding me?” and “OMG, you’re actually serious!” The kids expression was more of “Can we leave now?”
At this point, I knew it was time for me to leave.
