melting plot

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the show that never ends. Step in. There’s room at the front. We’ll start when everyone is in and can hear me. Hear me in the back? Good. Louder? OK.

“This, as you can see, is the Starbucks at the corner of Bedford and Main in downtown Stamford, Connecticut, in the heart of prosperous and, we're proud to say,
not-yet-so-egalitarian Fairfield County, USA. Let’s see what’s happening, here, on this dank, overcast Saturday morning.

“OK, sitting over there, to the left, is Rosie, one of our local, but mostly harmless whack jobs. A few minutes ago, Rosie walked up and down the aisle talking aloud, to herself, then farted unabashedly.

“Over there, yes, over there, see him, in the knit winter cap and dressed in layers, even though it is 63 degrees outside, is Hank the Homeless Man. Hank also talks to himself. And sometimes you can even hear what he says, if you care to listen. Most don’t. It just makes them nervous. Hank’s overdressed because he travels light. Carries what he's got with him. Got the wanderlust going, if you know what I mean.

“Them? Sure. Those two are Stu and Wally – though he likes to be called Walter. Young, bright investment bankers. Yes, times are tough for them, but you don’t see them complaining. Still dressed for business, sort of. Suits but not ties. It is, after all, Saturday. Brave boys, both. Kudos to them.

“Her? Patricia. She won’t go by “Pat.” Don't even try it. Fake boobs, fake ass, pumped out lips. Divorced, but not willing to settle. Fancy that kind of courage. She's no concubine, but she still wants to be taken care of like she was before the split – or at least as well as her best friend, Phoebe. God bless her.

“If you don’t mind me saying so – can you still hear me in back? -- this is a pretty good human sampler of our beloved metropolis. Sure, we got whacked-out, public flatulators. And we got more come from where Hank does. But we got Stu and Walter and Patricia, too. And we got ‘em all mixed in, together. We co-exist, here. We like to think of Fairfield County as a melting pot, circa twenty-ten. And Starbucks? It’s where America meets, eh? Sitting in a cozy, communal living room atmosphere, with Starbucks muzak and comfy chairs, sipping overpriced coffee drinks, where no one bothers anyone else -- give or take a few farts -- much less actually talks to one another.

“And if that ain’t America, folks, what is?

"OK. Take your time. Look around yourselves. We're back on the bus in 10. Oh, and if you buy an "iced mocha java too tall" tell 'em I sent you."