Starbucks offers more than a triple venti latte with soy, half a scoop of cinnamon, and finally a dollop of whip crème. Oh, it’s a hub of business meetings, writers, students and girlfriends catching up, a prime location for first dates, and a desirable neutral/safe zone to hand off kids. Sounds dismal. I spy on a mom with two toddlers - clearly handing them off to a father .He is so excited to hug them and has saved a table in the corner. Two chocolate donuts are waiting on two napkins. She’s giving him a disproving glare. I could stipulate that their normal form of communication involves email and two cc’d lawyers. But that’s just my guess.
There is a homeless guy playing the accordion outside, there are two women dazzling in jewels and then two guys, maybe eighteen or nineteen with calculators and chewing on erasers. The social environment which appears to appeal to all walks of life - you’ll locate familiarity in all of the thousands monopolistic cafes; the same mahogany tables, the calming hunter green and the same vanilla scones- well it’s a classier McDonalds model - the same dependable taste whether I’m in Hong Kong or Sydney, New York, or Plainville, Texas. This is a brilliant conglomerate in which I wholeheartedly support.
A weird thing happened recently: Serendipity, happenstance, however you want to phrase the absurd conversations that leave me a bit unhinged and more weirded out than say, the average “hola” to my neighbor.
Two Saturday’s ago I ventured into Starbucks on Colo. Blvd. – it was 11pm and I was desperate to see proof of humanity. I’d spent the majority of the blizzard day working in my apartment. Thanks to the Denver population (roughly 17 people) I climbed into my car with sweats to drive through the snow to locate the only 24-hour Starbucks. There is a one almost-empty table, an older man with a leathered briefcase with small circular glasses, dark skin with very short black hair. He is packing his bag, sipping the last of his coffee and brushing the crumbs off the table. I make a run for it.
All I want is to turn on my computer, shut the world out (such an oxymoron, since I’m at Starbucks to see other humans blaring miscellaneous music and pounding out whatever on Apple keyboards, or lost in textbooks), blare my music and continue my love affair with Microsoft Word.
“So why does a woman like you come to Starbucks at 11pm at night?” He probed. He had a thick accent, pausing at the vowels.
I jumped, expecting him to take his briefcase and give me his table... not trying to start talking at this ungodly hour.
“I need some energy.” Was all my brain could rummage up at the moment as I was wiping the whip creme off my chin.
His eyes were skeptical. He questioned my answer, “Like what kind of energy?”
“You know, like I just needed to get out of the house.” I explained, annoyed. He wasn’t leaving the table.
“Sure, I understand.” He said without a clue as to what I was explaining.
I glance at the papers on the table and see foreign formulas in various colors, equations of sorts.
He noticed I was staring, “Oh those are formulas - I’m a physics professor and I was just helping some students better understand Einsten’s Zero-point Energy theory. It’s why I was a bit fascinated when you said you were seeking out energy tonight. Essentially it explains the transmission of energy.
Not only did I get what I was seeking, but I got a full blown explantion of why and how I was receiving exactly what I’d asked the world for, literally. This man and I sat down and talked for an hour. This sixty-something fatherly figured was so eager to explain the law of gravity, how to create magnetic force from mere metal, how the law of relativity is flawed, light-years, space-ships, you name it - this guy could explain it, and I was actually, truly enjoying learning such interesting, scientific theory.
I’m now a believer in the blind law of attraction. Sometimes you get what you want - and sometimes you're given exactly what you've requested, but weren't expecting at all.
