THE BALM IN GILEAD

It is a sad day friends, a sad day for us all. What was once a pleasant, mutually beneficial arrangement has become a yolk around my neck. It has come to my attention that certain people who, for some reason or another, feel entitled to my time, may have begun to suspect that I how can I put this diplomatically, don't do very much all day. We shall, for the sake of brevity, refer to these people as 'my bosses'. Accordingly, today's post is actually being written in what has, heretofore, been a part of my day unsullied by something as menial as blogging, my free time.

As many of you know yesterday, two days ago if we use your point of view, Starbucks, home of the $3.25 cup of warm apple juice with a squirt of caramel, closed its doors for three hours to retrain its Baristas (a.k.a. people who smile way more than anyone wearing a baseball cap to work ever should). This was apparently problematic to some for, as Alba Morales, a community college student remark "A lot of of people come here to make out, read sleep. I can't imagine how lost people will be." So you can imagine my surprise when I went to work today (yesterday) and didn't find horny, book carrying, narcoleptic college students walking around with those big tourists map Japanese people use to stop sidewalk traffic. They weren't roaming from coffee shop to cafe hoping to find an African blend with just the right amount of mumbo jumbo about hints, notes and aromas (try our mid-African blend with a hint of tobacco, as well as notes of cinnamon and chicory. The aroma alone will leave you craving a second cup.). NO, they just hung around not reading, sleeping, or making out, and waited for Starbucks to reopen.

All of this is a long way of saying are we dumb? We're willing to pay 3 bucks for coffee and glorified hot cocoa because there are couches on which we can read make out and sleep, simultaneously even, if you drop a mickey into someone's machiatto. Are we really convinced that no one else in all of NY city knows how to make an espresso? And if not, why the hell do we wait? I guess the answer is (I'm guessing cuz I've only given this about 4 minutes of thought), we are creatures of comfort. We are willing to pay more for leisure than we are value.

Look at the evidence. We pick out coffins with cushioned interiors lined in velvet and satin because the thought of being trapped in the same uncomfortable bed forever is so incredibly contrary to our nature that it even blinds us to the fact that when the time to use it rolls around we're, you know, dead. We have dress pants that stretch as you stuff your face (the comfort fit waist band adjusts with your body). We pay hundreds of dollars more for a flight so that we can recline our seat and put our arms on both arm rests simultaneously (By the way don't you hate it when your at the movies and the people on each side of you each steal on of your arm rests? Then you have to spend the whole movie with your shoulders all hunched forward, hoping and waiting for the moment when they move their arm and you can strike, cobra-like, with a forearm to the cushion and claim that 3 inches of upholstered foam your own. There should be some sort of binding arbitration you can enter into to avoid the problems caused by the one guy hogging two arm rests. Also, this is why you should never got to the movies alone, at least if you have a friend you know that if all else fails, you can always steal their arm rest.) We even have comfort food. Though now that I think about Ms. Morales' comment I'm forced to wonder if the draw of comfort food is the promise that somewhere out there someone else is craving chili, and, if the seats are comfortable enough, she will make out with you.