I'm at a cafe in mid town Manhattan. I'm the only person here. It's 2pm. And I'm starring in a comedy.
There are four waiters. They're all wearing black slacks, white shirts, three are wearing black vests. One stands by the door, the other three about 6 feet behind him. Number two is nervously clapping his hands back and forward entertaining himself with gravity. Number three is standing next to number four. Number four is the woman who served me this horrid latte I'm dealing with and she's literally staring at me as I write this. I think she hopes I'll ask for something else so she can do something with her time.
A minute passes, I look up. All three are staring directly at me and casually look away in exactly the same direction. Synchronized better than Microsoft Outlook ever did.
I can't take the pressure I just want to blog about deviantART things. I snap the menu open, random finger shuffle... I guess I'm buying a... I can't go through with a random finger shuffle. A closer scan of things I don't really want since I ate an hour ago and I discover that I could tolerate orange juice. I literally mutter "orange juice, please" with a volume so low it acknowledges how ridiculous the situation is.
Instruction received instantly. She didn't look pleased, she gave me a bit of an inside smile... save me? Kill me? Filled with guilt I say, "oh and a croissant."
One, two, three, four. One begins to play with gravity as well, only he incorporates the pen in his hand in to the snap motion. Four and three tell each other a joke and fake laugh.
Meanwhile directly outside, the foot traffic might appear to a small southern town as a stampede. It's a corner shop, it looks nice. I can't figure it out. A whole hour and some and I'm still the only customer.
Number three scratches his eye. Number four performs a standing boredom twitch.
I'd love to pay the bill and leave. Out of pity I can't bring myself to do it!
