Happy People Dwell in Faneuil Hall

I was killing time downtown after an appointment I had got delayed today, so I decided to grab a bite at Quincy Market. I managed to score one of the coveted low tables with a seat. Across the table from me, and old man was telling a couple of tourists about the wonders of train travel. Once the visitors got up, I knew the old man was going to chat me up. Since my mind was on the meeting and the astronomical parking fee I was going to have to pay, I kept my responses short.

Midway through my meal, a bald guy took a seat across the table from me, next to the old man.

"How are you today?" He asked me.

"Good," I said, taking a bite of my pizza. As he sat quietly, I felt kind of bad for not keeping the conversation going.

"How are you?" I asked as he was between bites on his sausage, egg, and cheese on croissant.

"Stupendous," bald guy replied emphatically.

"That's a pretty bold statement for such a rainy day."

"Hey, at least it's not snowing!" Bald guy said with a smile.

The old man had clearly found a kindred spirit in this happy bald guy, and started talking to him about his cross-country trek on Amtrak.

"They named me Traveler of the Week," the old man told the bald guy.

"That's wonderful," said bald guy.

I watched as the duo enthusiastically discussed Boston sports teams and the old man's work with the sports teams in his California community.

"Making people happy is what makes me happy," old man said. "I always say that happiness is an inside job."

"You have to be right here," bald guy said, pointing to his heart, "before you can be happy for the world."

With that, I politely excused myself, tossed my trash, and went to check out the ironic t-shirts at Urban Outfitters. That much happiness on a rainy afternoon was enough to make me lose my overpriced and underflavored mall food lunch.

Anyone Want a Burger?

At work today we had some hamburgers and beer for lunch. After the employees feasted on the delicious meaty and/or veggie burgers, we found ourselves with eleven leftover burgers.

"What do we do with these burgers?" asked one coworker.

"Maybe bring them to the post office?" Someone else replied.

"It would be nice if the Pine Street in were near here." Someone added.

Determined to unload the burgers on hungry people who could appreciate them and not unload them into a garbage can, my coworker Feifer and I decided to leave the office and try to peddle nine (a couple people took burgers on our way out) burgers on the public at large.


"Free burgers!"

As we stepped out of the office, a crowd of four people stopped as we announced our free burgers. They were initially suspicious of a couple of giggly people with an unmarked sack of hamburgers, but hunger won out.

"I haven't eaten breakfast yet," one of the women told us as she grabbed a burger.



We walked down Mass Ave., calling for people to liberate our burgers. One tourist came out of one of the Christian Science Center buildings and told us in broken English that she was on her way to buy a burger anyway, and thanked us. A man in a Yankees hat turned us down, but smiled and said, "You guys are nice."

After a while, we were down to one burger. "This is going to be hard," Feifer said, "because if you come up to me with a collection of something I like and offer it to me, I'll probably accept it. But if you said 'Do you want this particular item?', I probably wouldn't take it."

It turned out he was right, and despite our loud calls to the tourists around us, we returned to our office with one lonely hamburger in a big plastic bag. Luckily, one of our coworkers took it and all the hamburgers found a loving stomach today.

Notes from a Coffee Shop

It's January in Boston and it's finally snowing. It started out slow, brows furrowed, the expression of "Am I actually seeing this?" Then the flakes dropped faster, following the wind into curls and drafts as people walk down the street with their eyes narrowed against the stinging wind and flakes. Nobody looks upset by the snow, but they look relieved, glad to finally see some evidence of a normal winter. A family ducks into the coffee shop, pulling together two tables, rounding up extra chairs from occupied tables. A small boy in a orange sweater quietly plays with an action figure and eats a cookie. Customers gather toward the windows, glancing up from their coffees and conversations to take in the snow. It begins to cling to handrails and leaves of ivy on buildings. Hats get pulled over heads, gloves are pulled from coat pockets as people prepare to go back outside.

Miss Manners

In the area of my office, there are at least three textbook publishing companies. Magazine publishing offices are not too far away. Thus, it is no surprise there are a plethora of coffee shops in the area. Today at lunch, which I take around 2pm, Kristen and I walked over to Starbucks to partake of their holiday lattes. I elected not to get one since I'm saving my money for booze this evening and I'm already edgy, but I savored the walk over.

Once we walked inside the Starbucks, it was bedlam. Bedraggled people in thick-framed glasses and sensible shoes waited in line, visibly craning their necks to see how many people separated them from their precious three-o-clock caffeine hit. The order-takers were dealing calmly, but the coffee drink preparers were moving around like worker bees in a hive. Kristen placed her order, and we waited in line to pick up her drink.

Directly in front of us was a short woman in black pants and a sensible gray wrap sweater, her dark hair pulled back. She had a tray in front of her, waiting to pick up her coworker's orders. The barista (that is a stupid word) gave her her caramel iced something or other and the woman immediately tried to get the coffee-slinger's attention back. Since the line was about 150 people deep, the coffee-slinger turned away. The woman rolled her eyes and got the attention of the coffee-slinger as coffee-slinger deposited another cup on the counter.

"Can I have more ice?" The woman asked.

"Well," the coffee-slinger replied, "I can't fit more ice in the cup. I can get you a bigger cup."

The coffee-slinger brought back the drink in a bigger cup.

"Can I have more caramel?" The woman requested. The coffee-slinger popped the top of the new cup and drizzled some more on top.

"This looks awfully light to me," the woman said to the visibly annoyed coffee-slinger.

"The tall only comes with one shot," the slinger replied.

"I come here all the time, and this is the only thing I get, and it's usually not this light."

The slinger relented. "I'll remake it."

The woman looked at another customer who rolled her eyes. "It's expensive. How about a little coffee with that milk?" She bitched.

Listen, lady, Starbucks isn't tea at the Ritz. You weren't the only customer there. You had multiple drinks in your order. If you want to be treated like a princess, go someplace else. If you want a size up on your caramel whatever-the-fuck, ask for it. Don't make the harried coffee-slinger remake your order entirely because it's not the right shade of brown for you. You're lucky she didn't do like the bartender I saw at the Foundation Lounge a couple weeks ago who nearly got into a fistfight with a customer who kept her unnecessarily running when it was busy.