I trudged up to Starbuck's before I headed to work. Christ, I feel like such an asshole when I go to get "coffee"; I'm like a character in "LA Story":
"I'll have a grande, decaf, nonfat, peppermint white mocha with whipped." I already look like a tool placing the order, but whatever happened to small, medium, large? Starbucks is from Seattle, not Siena.
I wait in the line of shame for my barista, Mike, to make my drink.
"Have a great day.", Mike barks out, as he puts down my grande, decaf, nonfat, peppermint white mocha with whipped. He doesn't mean it, he doesn't even look at me. Nice.
I leave Starbucks and cross the street, past the grand entrance to Chinatown; a huge, ornate archway on Grant Avenue where many pose for pictures before moving on to shop for gifts.
"Good morning!", a pleasant looking Asian woman calls to me. She is smiling at me. She means it.
"Good morning!", I call back.
"Spare a quarter!?", the woman sniffs at me.
Ugh! No!
"Sorry", I say as I pass by her. No, I'm not sorry.
The old woman snorts and hawks a loogey right behind me. Yum.
I continue on, past the "Antique" store. Fine antiquities fresh from the factory for San Francisco tourists.
Finally I get to work, say a quick hello to everyone at the front desk, and drop my stuff in my office. Just as I'm about to sit down at my desk, I notice a bum taking a piss in the alley behind my office. What a perfect start to the day; it can only get better.
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