13 days after my twenty fifth birthday, I walk into Starbucks®, order my regular Venti White Chocolate Mocha with whip cream and wait for the cute Hispanic guy with the gold tooth and tattoo of a 36 font “18” on his neck I guess Starbucks is an equal opportunity employer , to prepare my drink and give me his usual “have a good day”. I’m texting on my new Mother’s-day-gift-to-my-self,( a Kyocera Switch-back, which is sortof like a sidekick but not really…I just think it looks cool and it was only $150 and it’s prepaid...) I don’t notice the white-tee-shirt-wearing-couldn’t-be-more-than-seventeen-year-old walk in. Not that if I wasn’t texting I would have noticed him; because everyone could clearly smell the ever so fresh smell of Enfamil of his breath By the time I do notice him he is right in my face.
“You got the time?” The abruptness of his voice and the way that he so quickly has invaded my personal space, catches me off guard. Had we been in the WOOD, he mighta had an ass whoopin coming to him; but we’re in the peaceful city of Torrance and I am on my way to work so I decide not to bitch-stomp him. He is so close to my face I think for a second he is about to kiss me. I step back and eye him suspiciously. “8:07” (Which means that I am late for work…but if you know me, you know late) I say in a very matter-of-fact tone, so that he will know that I don’t have time to talk. I take a step further away from him and suddenly he reaches out for my hand… “What a nice phone…” His voice goes up about three pitches and he is entirely in my “stranger danger” zone “What is it?” his hand is almost on my phone, I snatch away my hand…I say “a switchback. Why are you so close?”. He immediately backs away and says “I’m so sorry Ma’am, I just wanted to see…Is it like a side kick?” “I say “sort of.” I turn towards the counter. “How much did it cost?” I don’t answer. “Where do you work?” I don’t answer. “What’s you name, ma’am?” I step further away. “Ma’am?” He moves closer.
What the hell? First of all, I am the youngest, freshest looking 25 year old I know, so why is he calling my Ma’am and second of all, why did he feel I was going to allow him to touch something that is mine. Thirdly, Why is he still talking to me?
It’s amazing how quick the brain analyzes things because I have 2011 thoughts all in this one second. Is he slow? Is this tiny yellow bus day at Starbucks? Am I about to have to take it to the WOOD with him this early in the morning? Is he on drugs? Why is he still so close to me?”
“Jenny” The cute Hispanic guy calls out. Why do they do that shit? We’re not friends!? I reach for my drink and dash out the door. The little boy follows me, still asking questions ... I get in my car and lock the door and finally he stops. He just stands there as I pull away I feel like I am in a scene from the Terminator…
Rather bizarre start to a morning don’t you think?