Wednesday, April 30, 2008

How I Became a Starbucks Stalker - Pt. 4

Nothing. It had been four days since "J" had sent that note under my muffin and still nothing. I dutifully showed up to that Starbucks each morning in hopes of reconnecting with my new friend but he was no where to be found. I peppered the now familiar baristas with questions of his whereabouts but if they knew anything, they weren't telling. I even went so far as to bribe Tammy, the cashier, with five bucks to spill the beans, so to speak, as to who the guy was. She held firm but took my money and quickly put it in the tip jar with both a smile and a wink.

His note haunted me. What took me so long? What could he possibly mean by that? I pondered with labored effort to grasp some understanding but the statement was lost on me. I took out my laptop and typed those words into the Word document I had started that very first day that I had met him. People. What took me so long? Then suddenly it hit me. The first thing that popped into my head was the word time and then the word focus just seemed to magically appear out of no where. I quickly typed the two words into my document. I felt like Sherlock Holmes all of a sudden, discovering a clue that would lead me ever closer to solving a mystery; my mystery.

I sat there and let a sense of real accomplishment perk to the surface when suddenly there was a tiny tap on my shoulder. Still focused on what I had just written, I made the mental assumption before ever turning around that the shoulder tapper would no doubt be J. He was there to relish in my word discovery. I turned and before I ever looked I said, "You meant taking the time to focus didn't you?" My huge sappy grin was replaced with absolute embarrassment when I realized there standing behind me was not J but a little old lady clutching a purse and a cup of coffee.

"Oh I am so sorry. I thought you were someone else," I said.

"Oh dear boy, don't be silly. You are obviously excited about something. I hate to disturb you when you have such important work," she said.

"No Mame, you are not disturbing me the least bit. I just figured something out is all."

"You sure did Steve." She smiled as the fact she knew my name flew right over my head. "In fact, that's exactly why J asked me to stop in this morning. He just knew you were going to figure something out today." My heart stopped. You know J I thought to myself.

With those words she introduced herself as Madge, set her belongings down on the table, pulled a chair very close to me and sat down. It seemed my new friend Madge was a long-time friend of J's. She claimed to have met him in a very similar way as to how our paths crossed; at a Starbucks wouldn't you know. It seems Madge was a lonely widow that rarely got out of the house. No family nearby and aside from the occasional trip to the bank and the grocery she seldom set foot outside her front door. That was until they built a Starbucks near her house. Relishing the chance to be out amongst the living, she ventured out nearly every day, enjoyed some coffee and a roll now and then and just enjoyed watching the people. That was until one fateful day when she met J.

It seems our good friend J gets around and on the day his path crossed with Madge's, he was already certain they would not only talk but would become good friends, in fact he insisted on it. "You know the kind of friends like he is with you," she said somewhat apologetically. I assumed her comment was meant to insure that their friendship couldn't be misconstrued as anything more. She was sweet and so incredibly put together, I found myself increasing drawn to her.

"You see until I met J, I wasn't really living. I wasn't really doing much of anything, except maybe waiting to die," she chuckled. "But something drew me to that Starbucks and kept me coming back day after day until at last I met our friend." A big smile appeared on her face. She looked off into space for a moment and seemed to momentarily relive their first meeting. "He saved my life don'tcha know."

It seems that J appeared out of no where, much like he did with me. Though he claimed he wasn't hiding, she just wasn't ready to meet him just yet. So he waited. Patiently. Quitely. Waited for that moment when she was ready and then he came to her. She told the story as if she and I had walked on the same path together. I related to her story in so many ways and felt a twinge of appreciation and honor that J had somehow chosen us both to talk to.

"J and I had a number of great coffee chats and he was the one that opened my eyes."

"Opened your eyes," I asked with a subtle confusion.

"Yes he opened my eyes to a lot of things but people most of all." She took a long pause and reached for my hand. Her pale fragile skin felt warm and safe - it reminded me of my own grandmother's hand. A pang in heart shot through me like an electric shock. She looked into my eyes, intent on insuring I heard and felt what she was about to say to me. "He showed me that people are stories waiting to be told. You just have to be willing to take the time, give your focus and ask the right questions. If you do that a world of possibilities will open up to you."

The words hung there like mystical stars lighting my mental darkness for the first time. She squeezed my hand and said, "You get it Steve. More than you know." She gave me a big smile and patted my knee as I grappled with the story she just told me.

"Yes sir, J saved my life. He reminded me that I could either be a spectator of it or an active player in it. And like you, he started showing me how to get into the game."

There was no doubt J had come into both of our lives for a reason. As Madge and I chit chatted about what we had both learned and how many great people we had already both met along the way, I just hoped I could find that reason out sooner, rather than later.

Monday, April 28, 2008

How I Became a Starbucks Stalker - Pt. 3

Over the next several days I arrived extra early and waited for my new friend to arrive. I found myself unable to concentrate, defaulting to nervously watching the door each time it opened hoping to see his smiling face walk through it. Each time I found myself a little more disappointed.

Where had he gone? I went through our last meeting over and over again, each time my heart sinking at my bad manners. Had my not asking him his name really offended him that much? Spending the time I had with him I assumed not, but then again where in the world was he? It was a question I begged to ask but there was no one there to answer. My coffee cup proving, each of those mornings, that it was neither fortune teller nor magic eight ball. His absence remained a mystery.

Each day I found a way to pass the time by concentrating a little more on each face that came through the door. Looking back there must have been hundreds; it was after all a very busy Starbucks. I found myself asking the mental question of whether this person might know him or that person might know him, over and over again. I sat for long periods of time slowly sipping my coffee and just watching. My eyes more than once meeting someone else's, only this time, rather thank looking away as I might have before, I kept the contact and smiled. To which many smiles were returned. I learned that from him.

Three days had passed and still no sign of my new friend but somehow on the fourth morning, I didn't pay it any mind. Four days had passed and many of the strange faces now looked oddly familiar to me, a bounty no doubt from days of just watching, observing. Smiles were exchanged as if old friends were seeing each other after a long break. 'Good mornings and how are you doing this mornings' were exchanged. People took a pause from their morning ritual of hustle and bustle to stop and chat; something that no longer felt awkward and unusual...but simply right. It would be hard to explain but these people somehow made me feel more alive.

I was knee deep in conversation with a fascinating chap named Bob, an insurance salesman who was about to embark on a lifelong dream of going to Italy when it happened. One of the Starbucks baristas tapped me on my shoulder, mid sentence, and offered me a blueberry muffin. At first I was confused, having not ordered a muffin I assumed he had somehow mistakenly brought me someone else's order. He insisted it was mine and handed me the plate. Neatly tucked under my muffin was a folded up piece of paper.

Bob, glancing down at his watch, politely excused himself; he was late for a meeting. We shook hands as new friends do and he promised to fill me on his trip when he got back. He left me looking still rather dumbfounded with muffin in one hand, a note in the other and now all of the baristas smiling at me from behind the counter. Embarrassed, I gathered my composure, sat down and opened the note. It read:

Hey my friend! Have you missed me? I have been very busy this week and unable to make our morning chats. My friends behind the counter tell me that you've made good use of your time however. I look forward to hearing all about it, next time we meet. Until then, I ask you to think about this. What took you so long?

Your Friend and Java Buddy,

J

J? So J was his name? I smiled and took a bite of my muffin and saluted the folks behind the counter that were so obviously in J's plot to surprise me that morning. As I enjoyed the last remnants of my coffee and my yummy muffin, I thought about his question.

What on Earth did he mean by, "What took you so long?"