Cafe Flow

We spend quite a bit of time in cafe's.  It's good.  We leave the house and head into neutral space to 'work'.  Neutral because it's public, and not near housework, the TV, the phone, the endless home 'work'.  We can just get out and get at it.  The 'it' being our external 'work'.  It could mean reading, writing, researching, emailing, etc.  Stuff that we think, "oh I'll get to once I get the laundry gets done."

I'm fascinated with the fluid life of a cafe.  While we're sitting here waiting for our teas to cool, 25 people could come, go out, sit down, get up, leave and repeat.  From my vantage point, there are 4 groups of two.  Two are busy doing business.  Sounds like they're dealing with a real estate deal, a couple ladies are planning some sort of social event for 20 plus people.  Other couples are just catching up; sharing life stories and gossip.  The handful of others have books, journals and laptops to focus their attention.

A lot of business hapens in a cafe.  Some of it very serious.   Real estate deals, for one, are a big life deal.  Ohter is less serious, but impacts greatly. I mean, who doesn't enjoy a well themed, organized social event?  The guy on the laptop behind me (not Tim...he's across from me), could be working on a business deal.  Perhaps he's writing a novel.  Maybe he's researching stock prices.  Perhaps he's an architect and building plans for a new office tower.  Who knows.  (mmm, I do try to listen)

I hadn't really planned on blogging tonight.  In fact, I had a whole other agenda completely.  But I got sidetracked with the imaginings of the cafe flow.  If you really stop to listen, there is a cacophony of sound.  Obviously there are cafe sounds of the steaming, spitting espresso bar; the canned folksy music piped out to 'soften' the experience, the tapping of keys on laptop keyboards, the sharp cries of an ocassional cranky baby, various cell phone ringtones to announce a text, incoming call or alarm.  "Can I help you", "Grande Soy Milk Tazo Chai", and the endless stream of conversations float above it all.  Words dance and float above the other noise like cream rising to the surface of fresh milk.   

Tim and I both, at the same time, watched a woman come into the cafe.  She is dressed up, lips glistening with fresh gloss. She hasn't ordered a drink yet.  She glances towards the door every time it creaks.  We think she's waiting on a 'date'.  I am hoping it's a good experience for her.  I know the routine.  Planning the wardrobe, hoping your hair behaves, hoping you get there earlier than he does to have the advantage.  And I know the inner dialogue of waiting nervously, "will he show up?", "do I look okay?", "how is this going to turn out?", "what if he's a goof?", "why is he taking so long?", "is this the right place?", "am I sweating", "should I order a drink?", "how long should I wait?", is this seat okay, or should I choose another" (she did, by the way).  I feel sick for her.  Just sick.

Oh. the awaited guest has arrived.  I wait; don't turn.  Hold my breath.   It's a woman; not a man. Tim gives me the 'eye', but I don't agree. They are friends; nothing more.  Men.  Good grief.  I was worried for the poor gal though.  Or, maybe, not so much worried as remembering my past.  Ugh.  I don't need to go there anymore.  Thankfully.  Search over.  Happiness complete.

I can't help but looking around.  I'm background to those two girls in the corner.  They seem to be really deep in a happy visit.  I'm presently obvious, but quickly forgotten.  In fact, of the thousands of cafe's I've been to, I don't know if I can retrieve too many other faces into my memory of other customers who enjoyed a coffee break with me.  And in about a half an hour, I'll be deleted from the short-term memory of every other customer who raised an eye from a conversation or a paper cup to look in my direction.  I sit blocking merchandise, so it's likely someone has seen my face.

It's interesting to see the unique combinations of friends, business collegues, couples, and families.  Flowing into the cafe just now is an older group of men with very young women.  I can't figure that out.  The men look business nerdy; the girls look like freshly college age.  I don't want to imagine how this combo came together.  I am hoping it's, "Dad's-bring-your-daughter-to-Starbuck's-Day", but I doubt it.

I notice it's almost 9:00 PM.  Honestly.  How does this happen?  Why can't my work day go this fast?   Soon the laptops will have to be powered down and we'll have to take our trek home. Back to the place where life isn't as fluid.  Good, but rocked with speedbumps called responsibility.  Ugh. 

Cafe flow lends to tangents (as noted above).  I laugh at myself.  Perhaps I've fallen into the flow.  My ideas rising and falling to the conversations and interactions around me.  I've changed moods a number of times since sitting here, some just because I've heard the words of a song, or felt empathy, curiosity, or contentment.  It's been quite the hour.  My tea is still too hot to drink.  It likely won't be cool before the lights are dimmed in 20 minutes and we head home.  The book I brought along hasn't been read.  But I enjoyed the observation of cafe flow. I'm entertained.  Inspired.  Happy.