What I'm doing: relaxing after dinner
What I'm listening to: Barney (oh joy)
What I'm reading right now: Shiver (I'm thinking it's going to be a good one)
Staci and I meet about once a week at Barnes and Noble to write. Usually if it's not too hot, we sit outside the Starbucks. We've had some interesting encounters outside the B&N over the last few years and have made some interesting friends out there, including a very large group of Italian men (we've decided in the last months that they may be Greek-we're not really sure, but they speak very little English and are very nice) who play chess constantly and a couple of guys who have very loud trucks and motor cycles (expensive toys). Lately there has been a group of thirtyish men and one 18ish girl who meet, and they apprear to be some kind of self-help group. I'm guessing AA. The girl showed up last week and said she only had $4 and couldn't decide whether to buy cigarettes or dinner. She apparently decided on cigs because the asked the guys if she could borrow some money. Those are the regulars, but every time we meet, it never fails that we have to endure one or more people smoking extremely stinky cigars (yuck!) and someone always seems to have body odor. With all of this, it's amazing we ever get anthing done.
So, last Friday, the most interesting thing yet happened. Staci and I were just getting going on chapter 13 when a semi-homeless looking man rolled his Sam's shopping cart up to one of the tables near us and parked it. Inside the cart was a huge black backpack. He lugged the heavy backpack over his shoulder and walked inside of Starbucks. Then about 10 minutes later, the man busted through the door (without the backpack!) and took off through the parking lot in the opposite direction from which he came. And he left his shopping cart. Staci and I looked at each other, and she says, "Where is his backpack."
So, now we are sitting there wondering if the Starbucks is about to blow up from a homeless guy who is "sticking it to the man". Not a fun feeling, in case you're wondering. I looked in the window to see if I could see the backpack, but it wasn't in view. I called my husband Jeremy, who is a police officer in Webster (the city we were in), and he had the nerve to say, "Well, call the police," which in case the idiot didn't realize, was exactly what I did. Loser! Staci went inside to check things out and to look in the women's restroom. One of the guys we see up there often, asked what was going on, so I told him. He went to look around the store and in the men's restroom. The good new was that we had yet to blow up.
A few minutes later, I looked in the window again and saw the crazy guy with his backpack. He must have come in the B&N front doors. The crazy guy came out (with his backpack) and proceeded to tell us that he got kicked out because he cussed out the barrista. He must have stormed out forgetting his backpack. What a freak! Thankfully he was just crazy, and not a crazy bomber.
The strangest part was that as soon as he headed towards the parking lot (with his cart and backpack), the wind picked up and I swear the tempt. dropped about 10 degrees. Everyone was holding down their belongings to keep them from blowing away. A major storm rolled in complete with quite the lightning show. Good times.
Being the creative types that we are, Staci and I came up with all kinds of theories as to who the crazy non-bomber (whew!) was. We definitely feel a short story coming on.