You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The coffee break.
I’m sitting outside on the patio sipping a double frappe whoopee semi mocha full choco nutty buddy latte.
It’s delicious, slathered with caffeinated cool and topped with fattening whipped cream.
Just holding this cup of sugary incantations has added pounds to my ass.
I take a big gulp and brace for the inevitable.
A brain freeze!
It comes like a freight train screeching to a churning halt on my medulla oblongata.
“All Aboard” little ice gremlins scream.
I stare at the sun. It’s bright and warm and it thaws my frontal lobe quickly.
Behind me are two attractive young women.
They are in their 20’s and they talk as if no one can hear them.
I am sitting at the next table. I am literally 3 feet from these girls.
My back is to them. Obviously they don’t think I can hear them. Perhaps they don’t know that I have ears.
I want to laugh.
They are blathering psyco babble morons.
I don’t want to eavesdrop. I actually want to move, to turn them off, to shut them out.
I simply want some peace and quiet. It’s been a long exhausting week full of tension and angst, and all I want to do is chill, drink this delicious candy flavored choco mocha duky doppy coco bean bad boy in peace.
“I don’t want to work full time,” one of the girls says. “Can you imagine working full time?”
I laugh.
Ah yes. I can imagine working full time college girl, I feel like saying.
“I just want to go on vacation like Jill. I want to sleep in. I don’t want any part of it. It’s gonna be like High School again. Getting up early and going to class every day. Oh my God.”
I look at my mocha frappe iced coffee smoothie.
It’s 90% full.
I imagine dumping it over this college girl’s head. I envisage the frothy gooey mess running down her temples, and seeping into her ears, rolling down her Eustachian tubes and waking up her senses from the inside.
She wants life delivered to her on a silver platter. She wants the easy way out. She wants mommy and daddy to pay her way.
That’s not the way it works blondie.
“I want to go to Disney Land,” her friend blurts out of nowhere.
“I hate Disney land. I’m all about the rides,” the free loader college girl replies. “I need the rush, the thrill. Disney Land is all about the little kids.”
I don’t necessarily have a view point on this latest element of their conversation, but because they are talking so loudly, filling my thoughts with their memories, there is little I can do to ignore it.
10 seconds ago, I had no thought on this important world issue, but suddenly I am contemplating Universal versus Disney Land. Rides versus theme park princesses.
Was I this dumb in college, I wonder.
I was dumb. I was anarchist cook book dumb.
I was jump off the building and throw napalm on the palm tree dumb.
I was go to Mexican Jail dumb.
But Disney Land doesn’t give me the rush I need in life?
Don’t think that’s a question I ever mulled over in my cranium.
I sip the latte choco fermented wonder and stare at the sky.
I watch an SUV of teens pull in.
They are dumb as a box of rocks, music blaring, hats on sideways.
Starbucks is the new millennium hangout.
We had McDonalds. These juvenile delinquents need a caffeinated funk-a-delic hangout.
They jump out of their vehicle and I wonder if America has a future.
They are a gaggle of arms and legs and sweat shirts on a 85 degree day.
Will any of them pass the SAT?
Chances are, they all will.
They are just a costume party of new millennium angst, and I’m the old man screaming get off my lawn teenage mutant mutants.
WTF?
I stare at my choco nutty buddy mocha avocado laced sugar enhanced latte and sigh.
50% gone.
I imagine rushing the restaurant counter and just letting the remaining contents splash across the sweat shirt wearing atomic punks.
I wonder if they have ever been assaulted by a coffee drink?
It sure would be fun.
Not Disney Land is better than Universal Studios fun, but pretty good for what’s left of a half a cup of syrupy mocha cocoa flame retardant nutrient of java induced love.
I silently giggle and invite another brain freeze.
“all aboard,” the little ice conductor of my mind shouts. “Next stop, nowhere in particular.”
Life’s Crazy™