I've always thought of the coffee shop as a center for conversation. It's a relaxing place to meet a friend or to strike up a discussion with the person at the next table. Comfy chairs, music, a cup of tea and a warm pastry -- the perfect formula for sharing ideas. Kind of like the salon societies but with caffeine.
Recently I stopped by a neighborhood cafe with a friend. Something just didn't feel right. Everyone was nursing a large cup of something. Everyone sat facing the same direction. Everyone had their laptop open. Tapping of the keyboards was the only audible sound. Is this study hall or Starbucks?
It's official. Wi-fi had made coffee shop conversation an endangered species. Oh, people are talking -- just not to anyone in the same room.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Watch Your Head!
Last week at my favorite Thai restaurant I happened to be seated facing the restroom. Far enough away so it didn't spoil the dining experience, but close enough to see they'd made what I suppose was an improvement. They've added one of those crawling signs above the door to inform patrons whether it's in use or not. Smart idea, yes?
But there was another message that caught my attention. After it changed from "occupied" to "not occupied" and back again, it also said "watch your head". I silently asked myself "why, what's it gonna do?". Then I thought perhaps it was the other meaning of "head" as in the john on a ship. Not too far fetched and a bit of a play on words since it was, after all, a bathroom.
Me? A word freak? Absolutely! I entertain myself endlessly playing with words. I especially love it when words are misused as in "The Russians use the acrylic alphabet." Now that's funnier than any TV sitcom line.
But to get back to the "watch your head" sign --- I had to check it out. I waited for the sign to say "not occupied" then approached. You could drive a Hummer through that bathroom door. I needed two hands to lock it. Did the restaurant cater to a secret clientele of really tall people -- a basketball team perhaps -- who might have to duck?
Our server -- a lovely Thai woman with English limited to the restaurant business -- didn't understand my question so the mystery remains. Meanwhile I'll enjoy my coconut soup and watch my head when I use the restroom -- just in case.
But there was another message that caught my attention. After it changed from "occupied" to "not occupied" and back again, it also said "watch your head". I silently asked myself "why, what's it gonna do?". Then I thought perhaps it was the other meaning of "head" as in the john on a ship. Not too far fetched and a bit of a play on words since it was, after all, a bathroom.
Me? A word freak? Absolutely! I entertain myself endlessly playing with words. I especially love it when words are misused as in "The Russians use the acrylic alphabet." Now that's funnier than any TV sitcom line.
But to get back to the "watch your head" sign --- I had to check it out. I waited for the sign to say "not occupied" then approached. You could drive a Hummer through that bathroom door. I needed two hands to lock it. Did the restaurant cater to a secret clientele of really tall people -- a basketball team perhaps -- who might have to duck?
Our server -- a lovely Thai woman with English limited to the restaurant business -- didn't understand my question so the mystery remains. Meanwhile I'll enjoy my coconut soup and watch my head when I use the restroom -- just in case.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Saddle Shoes, Anyone?
Where I live kids are going back to school tomorrow. That's why they look so depressed today -- another vacation spoken about in the past tense. Another essay on what I did last summer -- should I make up an Amazon adventure or stick with the standard archaeological dig near the pyramids? Who's the new teacher and, most importantly, what's that mystery lunch on the cafeteria menu?
I actually liked going back to school -- well not to math and science classes but I usually found social studies pretty interesting. Of course, it was always presented through a Catholic school filter so I can't vouch for objectivity.
Alright -- enough educational kissing up. The real reason I liked going back to school was the shopping. There were the mandatory pens, notebooks and other school supplies. But for me -- a bonus. Every September I was the lucky recipient of a new school wardrobe. If the plaid skirts, navy blazers and penny loafers were supposed to inspire me to greater academic heights I missed the point -- sorry mom and dad -- but I sure looked good struggling through my multiplication tables.
Recently, I've been thinking about how I'd love a pair of saddle shoes. Must just be that time of year.
I actually liked going back to school -- well not to math and science classes but I usually found social studies pretty interesting. Of course, it was always presented through a Catholic school filter so I can't vouch for objectivity.
Alright -- enough educational kissing up. The real reason I liked going back to school was the shopping. There were the mandatory pens, notebooks and other school supplies. But for me -- a bonus. Every September I was the lucky recipient of a new school wardrobe. If the plaid skirts, navy blazers and penny loafers were supposed to inspire me to greater academic heights I missed the point -- sorry mom and dad -- but I sure looked good struggling through my multiplication tables.
Recently, I've been thinking about how I'd love a pair of saddle shoes. Must just be that time of year.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The Cleaver's We Were Not
"At Joe's Appliances we're like family." "Mary's Diner -- it's like eating with family."
Is family really a selling point? Perhaps if your parents were June and Ward Cleaver or your last name was Von Trapp.
For some, family conjures up a quiet dinner exchange where Billie and Janie shared anecdotes about their day, while everyone listened politely and, when they finished, everyone told them how interesting their stories had been.
For me, family conjures up a loud, bickering dinner exchange where Billie and Janie tried to share anecdotes about their day while everyone interrupted and, when they finished, told them they needed a haircut.
Regrettably, this happened before the popularity of TV reality shows. Bring in a camera crew for just one of our dysfunctional Thanksgiving dinners and some network could have made ratings history.
I dreamed of being adopted by my best friend's family. They never argued. Their mother was beautiful and they had a kindly live-in grandmother. I knew this was as close as I was ever going to get to the Cleaver's and I got down on my little elementary school girl knees and prayed they'd realize that I had indeed been born into the wrong family and would make arrangements with my parents.
Of course, now that we're all older my family isn't the Jerry Springer Show it used to be. But can you see why I might be a tad wary of shopping at places that treat me like family?
Is family really a selling point? Perhaps if your parents were June and Ward Cleaver or your last name was Von Trapp.
For some, family conjures up a quiet dinner exchange where Billie and Janie shared anecdotes about their day, while everyone listened politely and, when they finished, everyone told them how interesting their stories had been.
For me, family conjures up a loud, bickering dinner exchange where Billie and Janie tried to share anecdotes about their day while everyone interrupted and, when they finished, told them they needed a haircut.
Regrettably, this happened before the popularity of TV reality shows. Bring in a camera crew for just one of our dysfunctional Thanksgiving dinners and some network could have made ratings history.
I dreamed of being adopted by my best friend's family. They never argued. Their mother was beautiful and they had a kindly live-in grandmother. I knew this was as close as I was ever going to get to the Cleaver's and I got down on my little elementary school girl knees and prayed they'd realize that I had indeed been born into the wrong family and would make arrangements with my parents.
Of course, now that we're all older my family isn't the Jerry Springer Show it used to be. But can you see why I might be a tad wary of shopping at places that treat me like family?
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