observation at starbuck's

I parked the car. noticed a few people in my peripheral talking, i walk into starbuck's, the door handle sticky of coffee spillage. i get in line; a twenty something blonde stands in front of me, next to order. with her red tennis and black shorts, she habitually orders an irish latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Looking to my left, i see a child cry for her mother as she enters the powderroom. The cash register clanks with change as the disgruntled employee opens and shuts the mechanical drawer. i am next. she smiles. I order a tall drip, nothing fancy; maybe boring but nonetheless, i am a boring coffee connoiseur. I get my coffee and walk to the stand where the half n half waits patiently to be poured. I make my round, i sit down and begin observing and asking questions. wallpaper, paintings, la times, coffee straws, two employees bickering quietly behind the counter. i ask a few questions: is it true starbuck's invests in bombs? do they spike the coffee with chemicals? it is quite tasty and addicting. i notice some kids watching me write, motivating me to write more. i read an article from the sports section of the la times. i noticed how small the paper looks these days. How they survive with the internet spewing news second by second.