My Morning at Starbucks

First of all, Salsa music isn’t the greatest of choices at 8:30 a.m. in a coffeehouse. Especially in November. With chalkboards and posters selling the spirit of the impending holiday season through snowflake imagery and offerings of Peppermint Mochas and Eggnog Lattes, a hot little Latin number stands out like the proverbial turd in the punchbowl.

Besides, people in Starbucks aren’t looking for a south-of-the-border wake-up call. They want cool jazz, hot jams and every other stereotypical musical genre that clueless, upscale housewives expect from a Supermegaplex Coffee Chain. They’re just not feeling the mariachi stylings of Pecos Brahmas and the Bandoliers.

Not that they really even notice the tambourines and brass section with a celly glued to one ear, the newspaper splayed across their lap, and a Venti Half-Caff, No Foam, 2% Extra Hot Caramel Macchiato in their one free hand. When engaged in such critical negotiations as to where to have lunch and where to pick up dinner, the overhead tunes are likely pretty far down the Scale of Importance. Somewhere around Which Tennis Visor to Wear.

And then there’s this guy.


Jesus, Mary and Joseph, why is there never a cop around when you need one? This is a public place, for crying out loud! And in strolls Slacky McDouchebag in his freakin’ dirty pajamas. Complete with slippers!

The thing is, even if he did need caffeine so badly as to forego the shower and avoid the complexities of putting on pants, this particular Starbucks has a drive-thru window. I assume built specifically for middle-management types who can’t afford to be late to the Monday morning staff meeting, but don’t dare attend without a trendy cup of joe in hand, and for wanks like this guy and their utter contempt for some of the most basic things that our society holds dear. Namely, the not treating of my morning coffee stopover like it’s his own personal fraternity house.

As long as Starbucks continues to blare pre-dawn Tejano Top 40 and allow pajama-clad wookies to rub against otherwise well-meaning patrons, I’ll be passing on a slab of Apple Crumble cake. And utilizing the drive-thru from here on out.