The greaseball got up from his seat to use the
restroom. I turned around instinctively to look
at his place, where he'd left nothing-- no cup,
newspaper, napkin. For a second I felt the quick
anger of a landlord who has discovered squatters
living on his property. The man hadn't bought
anything. What right did he have to be here?

I reprimanded myself. Starbucks is for everyone,
and I like it this way. College students, mothers,
old ladies picking the crunchy top from their
coffee cake. Once I sat next to a young man
asking his girlfriend's father for permission to
propose to her. "I've wanted to marry Jenny for
some time," he said. "And I just wanted to ask for
your blessing."

I've encountered associates at Starbucks, and even
a college roommate once. The wino snoring on the
easy chair didn't bother me. I appreciate the
hospitality of the place, the surprises and variety.




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