Was It Something I said?

Pete's coffee on Montana Ave. Santa Monica, Ca

On my morning constitutional, I walked into Pete's coffee house for a stiff cup-of-Jo. From the eyes of an unsuspecting passerby, this location would seem like just another one of the many coffee joints taking over the corners of our neighborhood. Nothing could be further from the truth. The world hidden within would validate the words to Jim Morrison’s song, People Are Strange.

The aroma of roasting beans smelled like heaven. I wanted to crush those beans into a fine powder and snort them through a golden straw. I might have started drooling from the corners of my mouth had it not been for my noticing the odd behavior of the employees.

THE EMPLOYEES: dressed in Urban Outfitter's street garb, they looked like throw backs from the grunge days. They behaved in a deliberately nonchalant way. Was I slipping into a hallucinogenic coffee thirst or did they seem to be pretentious about not being pretentious?

“My god, I'm in San Francisco”, I thought to myself.

They also had an annoying habit of flipping the hair out of their eyes while taking your coffee order. Weird.
The further up in line I moved, the spookier my observations became. I could see some of the employees mouthing the words to their routine customer's order, before he or she had a chance to complete it on their own.

“Large, skim chia latte with three sprinkles not four”.

I wanted to turn around and run , but my olfactory senses and morbid curiosity were operating the rest of my body so I stayed to watch the show.

Minutes away from the front of the line, I began to scan the world around me, and what I observed made my skin crawl.

THE CUSTOMERS: The interaction of the patrons was disgusting at best. A group of 50 somethings, spread throughout the store (inside and out), were trying to create their own version of "The Breakfast Club". There's a distinct air of familiarity at this location...some would call it bullshit; I call it ageing upper-class Santa Monica.
Oversize baby strollers littered the walkway in front of the shop. These monstrosities, containing only one child, were straight out of a South Park parody and were never out of the arms length of their captains‘. The herd of over caffeinated Santa Monicans sat greedily slurping down their designer coffee drinks while flexing their aging muscle sinew. They talked about the “upcoming triathlon”, “the office” or “carpooling”.

I had seconds to take in the rest of the show before it was my turn to place an order for some over sugared moca-monstrosity. Giving up the ghost, I did a 360 degree turn to see how these people were reacting to nature and the general world around them.

EMPLOYEES: The employees seemed to navigate their way behind the counter without incident. Breezing past each other on “their side” of the counter never looked easier. The barista intensifies her gaze at the six-million dollar coffee machine as she searched for the perfect froth consistency on a customer’s cappuccino. It's just another day at the shop for them.

THE CUSTOMERS: With one exception, the customers reacted to their surroundings with familiarity. The noise of a traffic congested Montana Ave didn't seem to faze any of them so long as their coffee is hot and they had someone to peacock with.

It was hard for me to gauge their reaction to nature around them because the grass in the surrounding patches of median were artificial. I think they must have been proud because there were small signs exclaiming; “These Grasses are brought to you by recycled paper”.

I rolled my eyes in contempt.

Remember the exception I mentioned earlier about how they reacted to objects around them?
It took me a few minutes to figure out their shifty body language in this regard, and then it clicked... I was that object.
God forbid a more than slightly flamboyant thirty-something, sporting a black hangover-hair and pink oxford decides to grab some caffeine at their coffee spot!
I was an outsider and they had pitchforks in the form of rolling eyeballs. Remember that scene in Young Frankenstein when the mob of towns people show up at the castle?
It felt exactly like that.
Finally, it was my turn at the counter and by god I wasn't going to screw this up. I wanted to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible while still leaving an "I could care less" impression on these Children of the Corn.
I opted to forgo the coffee-shop-lingo during the ordering process and instead said,

“A large coffee, black as you can make it please. Extra caffeine if you have it."

The orderly behind the counter gave me a sideways glance, and time it's self seemed to stand still.

“What? it's the only thing for a whiskey hangover” I said.

It was either my bulging eyes or my delirium tremens hands that gave me away, but in any case these people could tell that I was voyeuring their world. Sensing this, I gingerly took my coffee off the counter, about-faced and exited the store.
While Walking down Montana avenue (and periodically looking over my shoulder) I mouthed the words “People Are Strange When Your A Stranger...”.

Just another day at the zoo.