Conspiracy Theory
I have to admit that I'm a sucker for conspiracy theories. I don't know what it is, but I'm so intrigued by the entire gamut of theories out there that try to explain such events as 9/11, Princess Di's death, ufos, the New World Order, etc. that I could spend days looking at websites, reading books, watching documentaries on these subjects and not bother to consume anything else. For the most part, it's easy to discern from these outlandish claims that there's really no basis for truth in them, but I find them entertaining, and I'm amazed, sometimes, at the amounts of effort the writers put into their works. It's really no easy task to come up with a book-length screed or a highly developed website devoted to revealing all the insidious plots that control our daily lives. A good portion of these theories are dismissive for many reasons, but some have some credence and could be true or at least they are plausible.

Now, to reveal my own inner crackpot, I feel it's necessary to lay out a conspiracy theory of my own. My favorite, and I think it's safe to say that it's also Benedict's, coffeeshop here in Pittsburgh has, in the last few months, expanded to another storefront that was vacant next door. What the owners did, welcomely, was divide the two sections into smoking and non-smoking. For as much as I like the atmosphere in this place, I have to admit I hated the smoking. In fact, I purposely tried to sit closer to the doors because there the opening and closing as customers entered would bring in a breath, literally, of fresh air. If I could find a perch in one of the window seats, I'd take that as well since that afforded me the opportunity not only to escape the smoky haze but also allow me to watch the foot traffic along bustling Carson Street, and, in what may come as a surprise considering the recent span of frigid weather, the traffic never seems to dissipate. In fact, it's pretty constant all the time.

To get to my point, what I've noticed as of late, though, is the fact that the side I most frequent, the non-smoking side, is cold, sometimes cold beyond belief, regardless of where you position yourself in its confines. Now, as far as I know, and perhaps things have changed, the very fact that the inside of a building is the inside of a building should insure that it's warmer than the outside. However, this place seems to be the exception to the rule. Isn't it fair to assume that when I go inside a coffeeshop (Umm, what is coffee synonymous with for me? Perhaps warmth.) where they are making warm beverages, it will also me warm? But no, it's not. It's cold. A breeze continuously hits me in the face. My neck gets cold. I feel cold even while I'm drinking coffee. Is it really necessary to have to wear my stoking cap indoors? Hell, I'm tempted to put my jacket on as well and put the hood up. Coffeeshop=cold. That's not right no matter how you look at it. If I wanted to keep my winter apparel on, I'd get my coffee to go and stand out side by a flaming dumpster.

What the explanation for this? Well, I know they do have heat in there because as you walk around you can feel the heat from the vents coming down from the ceiling. So, it does work, which means it's not broken. What's odd, though, is they have the ceiling fans running constantly in there. When it was a smoking section this made sense because it circulated the air around. Makes sense, right? Well, now, I assume that they run these in some half-hearted effort to force the warm air to the floor, for as we all know warm air rises, at least in most places that don't defy the laws of physics and the natural order of things in the world. My thinking is that this does little in terms of actually spreading out the heat. In fact, I think this is one of the main causes of the coldness in there. Remember that constant breeze I mentioned? So, this is one possible cause, and to confirm that the existence of such a phenomenon isn't confined to one place, where I'm composing this very post, is below another vent, and cold air is coming down on me. I'm also reminded of the time when my favorite coffeeshop in my hometown had no heat in their downstairs area. That was quite possibly the coldest room I'd ever been in that wasn't cold due to lack of, say, windows and a roof. Which leads me to believe that this heatless phenomenon plagues coffeeshops in general.

However, I feel that it's cold for another reason, one much more sinister than just a fan running constantly. I believe, get ready, that most of the heat has been rerouted to the other side, the side where, guess what, smoking is allowed. Now, I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I have a strong suspicion that this place caters to smokers and, in fact, prefers them over non-smokers, a little reverse bias if you will. I think that the bias extends to the fact that they earmarked the new side for smoking, and I think the fact that before the official designated signs were actually raised the "regulars" already staked a claim to the "new" side sealed the fate of which side was going to be what. My theory is that in some odd crusade to reclaim smoker's rights that the owners of this establishment had the heat rerouted to make sure that "their" people were warm and comfortable. These "regulars" operate with more than a tad notion of the "cooler than thou" philosophy of life, and, although, it's nowhere near segregation, it's pretty goddamned close.

So, yesterday, in an effort to locate a warm area in this place, I thought I'd try the old standby, the window-seat, which was occupied for the last several months with a Christmas tree. I set up shop, on a wobbly table no less, and the girl brought me my bagel. What she said, though, left me feeling, not quite warm, but different. She said, "Oh, you found the one warm spot." Well, that warmth lasted all of about twenty minutes. Soon, I put my stocking cap on, guzzled by lukewarm coffee, it apparently affects that now too, and made a hasty exit to the warmth of a day that started out in the single digits and didn't go above the mid-twenties if it got out of the teens.