"I got backup"
I decided to put a slight spin on my morning routine today and walked the three blocks to Starbucks for a morning "Drip" instead of splurging on my Peet's Sugar-Free Vanilla Latte (with a touch of Honey added). I usually resort to Starbucks when I want to take a longer stroll before starting work or when I decide to save a few bucks here and there.
For some reason, going to this particular Starbucks always offers something that Peet's can not. Strange encounters with the Humans who water there. Either, the people at Peet's are too stuck up and snobby to ever chit-chat, or just well, not as strange, I have never met the kind of people at Peets while I doctored my drinks that I do at Starbucks, and today was no different:
There was a very tall man in front of me who had the look of indecision on his face as he watched me fall into line behind him. My arms were crossed, and I still had my sunglasses on. I always cross my arms. My Dad has always told me how terrible a habit it is, and I hate it when people wear their "eyeware" inside, so I took off my "sunnies" and uncrossed my arms. The tall man looked back at me again and I quickly looked at the menu board.
I figured he probably worked in construction because his clothing was tattered and dark from some sort of "film". There was a bandage around his elbow. And his pinky. There were scrapes all over his upper arms and his knuckles were bloody. I saw that he'd had stitches under his left eye. The barista asked him what his order was and I noticed he was pretending not to notice the tall man's bandages. The tall man pretended not to notice the barista (and me) pretending not to notice back.
I ordered my drip next and the tall man moved to the coffee bar to add sugar and cream. There was another girl in the way so I waited for her to leave. Secretly, I hoped the tall, tattered man would leave first but she did instead, so I stepped up, and added sugar in the raw. He reached across for the half & half and grunted "excuse me". He emptied it into his cup and turned it into the barista for a refill. I continued to stir. I couldn't get it right. It needed more cream.
"Half & Half is up!" The barista belted out. I was closest so I grabbed it and brought it back.
"Did you need this?" I offered the tall man.
"No thanks." His face softened at my offer and now that I looked him in the eye I noticed he'd had cuts on his cheeks, a scab on the bridge of his nose, and two black eyes.
"Don't ever let anybody bother you." He said.
"Oh, I won't. Don't worry." I laughed it off.
"Cuz if they do, I'll break they hand.... For free." He had a Brooklyn accent.
"I am pretty strong." I said.
"I'm sure ya got backup but if they ever bother you, I'll back ya up!"
"uh... thanks?" (I am madly stirring cream into my coffee as fast as I possibly can at this point).
"Okay well, I gotta go now." He said.
I didn't look up. "Take care." I realized that the guy was probably not in construction after all, and my warped imagination pictured him in the middle of a dark NY alley - fist fighting over a drug deal that went bad... or maybe he owed someone money...
Maybe I should have been repulsed or scared out of my mind at that point, but instead I felt rather sorry for him and tender-hearted. Me giving him the time of day made him want to protect me from the cruel world. It kind of broke my heart.
And then I started feeling thankful for all my own bumps and bruises.
Because mine aren't the kind that make baristas and others cringe at the state I am in.
And I have always had plenty of back up.
