A Bitter Taste
Usually, I try to be current with my digressions on whatever topic strikes me as being worthy of venting about, but today I've noticed that I've become more and more disgusted about the behavior of the patrons at my favorite coffeeshop. The thing is, though, this happened Monday night, and it has just festered inside of me for quite some time. I wasn't really intending on addressing the situation, but I couldn't help but notice that my cohort on my other site took the humorous route by placing a picture that mocks the situation for the absurdity that it truly is and will continue to be if it happens again. The situation occurred as follows. The two of us entered the coffeeshop, which happens to have just expanded to the storefront next door. Eager to sit in the new digs, we went over to the other side and perched on what we've come to learn as being the most desired table in the joint. Much like this one:
Well, shortly after that, one of the regulars, a near mythical creature in our eyes known as "White Hair," entered the establishment, turned promptly to his left to enter the expansion, and stopped suddenly with a bewildered look in his eyes. What could have occurred to cause such confusion in someone who, albeit old, is perceived as being "cooler than the other side of the pillow?" Well, it just so happens that the two of us were at his table, and, I was sitting in his chair.
Now, I know you're asking yourself, "Why is this such a big deal? Surely there are plenty of chairs in this place for him sit in and still maintain his air of coolness, right?" Apparently not. He appeared, if I may be so dramatic, to be a knight without his sword, a painter (Ironically, "White Hair's" one known craft is painting) without his brush, and totally without any ideas on how rectify this situation. Discombobulated, confused, angry, and all the other emotions that greet someone when they feel out of place and without a real purpose, seemed to have flooded over "White Hair" like a tidal wave. Lost in his thoughts, he finally settled on a chair that was equally comfortable as his regular thrown, if not moreso.
What troubles me about this situation is not the look of utter confusion on this man's face or even the somewhat unsubtle hint that we shouldn't be sitting there. What troubles me is the entire clique vibe that permeates the entire establishment much like the cigarette smoke that cloudens the air. This lifestyle that's so dependent on seeming to be independent is rather hypocritical in nature. The more they strive to be the outcasts who are accepting of people's flaws and kinks, the more they seem to tighten the circle to include only themselves and the desire to repel outsiders. It's a vibe that betrays everything they stand for, and it's a rather sad assessment on life on the fringe here in Pittsburgh. The entire notion of a coffeeshop that caters to the fringes is that you should be able, as a straight-laced un-hipster, to enter the premises and be able to enjoy the surroundings without the implied threat that you're sitting in someone's seat. This isn't the case in this place, and it's rather sad. I thought they were different. Alas, they aren't, and they're more often as petty if not moreso than the rest of us.