This Stall Ain't Big Enough for the Two of Us

I am happy to announce that apart from the book that I just released, I starting writing again in another project. I'd like to consider myself a minimalist, but having recently moved into more humble digs I noticed I still had too much stuff. The day started off well. I sold a couple of shirts to a retail exchange, and gave the rest away, making $8.40; enough to pay for lunch. Fantastic. I read a good chunk of an awesome book while waiting, and found a nice snug spot outside to eat. Moving right along, I had a meeting with a dear friend, and author of the book mY Generation, at a coffee shop at 4. This presented the perfect opportunity to pound out a few pages of my own beforehand.

Again sitting outside, with coffee on my left, a beer to my right, and my creative juices flowing, other juices needed to flow as well. Everything was going fine. There were nice breezes and uncluttered paths paving the way for a calm, but brisk walk to my destination, with plenty of time to hold the front door open for a lady. I proceeded with confidence through an unlocked door to the small men's room only to find it already occupied.

Whoa. Dude. C'mon, lock the door. That's not kosher. I realize there is a urinal and a toilet, BUT THERE IS NO DIVIDER. Therefore, man law, section 3 line 7 clearly states: "two dudes must never engage in relieving oneself without a divider unless there are multiple urinals side to side while said dudes face directly forward, and respecting one urinal spacing between each other whenever possible. If amenities face each other without any divider, dude must lock door." Trust me, this is a credible quote, and confirmed on the tv show, Myth Busters. While waiting outside wondering what kind of rookie this guy must be, he soon came out and cruised back behind the counter. To this bizarre bean who should know better in his own place of business: you know who you are...

Just a Little Out of Place

I was running a little late to work one morning. At approximately 6:04 AM I pulled into the empty parking lot before the sun had awoken. This was rather strange considering the promptness and reliability of my boss and the head cook. Approximately 48 seconds after peering through our dark windows another car pulled up. It was a co-worker sharing the same bewildered look I was giving her. "What are you doing here," she asked. "Do you work today?" - "Ha. That's funny. I was just going to ask you the SAME thing, SHAWNA." My call was going to my boss's voicemail when Shawna realized she had a key. We walked into the cafe, lit only by the eerie red glow of our exit sign.

Walking in, neither of us had any clue what was going on, who was supposed to be there, where the others were, if day light savings time had come and gone early somehow with us being the only people to not receive the memo, or even where the light switches were. Waiting for the Twilight Hour theme song to start playing we began shouting at the top of our lungs.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING!?"

"WHERE IS EVERYBODY!?"

"WHHHYYYY!?"

At approximately 6:17 AM the main phone line rang. It was the name of a girl who went to my high school, but one grade below mine, on the caller ID. "This isn't helpING!!" I thought to myself. Even stranger, when I answered saying, "What do you want?" it was the voice of her older sister, who I graduated with, and a Paris Hilton wannabe. She sounded just as frantic as Shawna and I did.

"Is this Austin Java???"

"Yeah."

"Do y'all serve mimosas??"

"Who is this?" [she didn't respond well]

"Excuse me? Why do you want to know who this is??"

"Recognized your name on the caller ID. I think we went to h.s. together, unfortunately."

"Well who are YOU?"

"Rambeau."

"Yeah, I don't know... [Psshhh my friends and I threw the majority of every decent party in h.s., which she frequented, and I had the misfortune of seeing her downtown several months before looking like a train wreck while receiving an incredibly fake hug from her]

... but this is Becky Drunktastic*."

"Whatever."

She laughed that I didn't acknowledge the esteem she said her name with. "Ha, whatever? Anyways, do you serve mimosas!?"

"Yes."

"What time? I will drive up 30 minutes from San Marcos RIGHT NOW if you will serve me a mimosa."

"When we open at 7 AM."

"Really?!? I'll be there at 7 on the DOT!"

"Well, our computers are 5min off so I actually won't open the doors for you until 7:05 AM."

"FINE, 7:05. Get ready to rage."

"Whoa. Don't think that I won't hesitate to cut your ass off if you come in acting amuck in my establishment."

"Are you serious?"

"Damn straight I am." [CLICK]

Shawna thought it was a prank call, and couldn't believe I'd talk to a customer that way. It wasn't, and you get what you deserve. Sure enough, she showed up, accompanied by friend; both sporting a heroine chic, at approximately 7:03 AM. I guess the stern tone was effective. They were served mimosas and breakfast tacos, were very polite, tipped well, and left quietly. To these bizarre beans apparently finally finding the right fix: you know who you are...