Notes from a Coffee Shop 2

Apparently this is going to become a recurring thing.

A coffee shop is rife with potential subjects. The people, the smells, and the noise all conspire to make wonderful topics for writing. But there is a certain sense of etiquette that I once thought everyone was aware of. Apparently not.

Going to the coffee shop during the week is one thing; there aren't very many people, and they mostly keep to themselves. On the weekend, however, the coffee shop becomes a free-for-all. It's every man, woman, and child for himself (or herself). I can hold my own in this kind of crowd. But I refuse to be rude.

I refuse to be a lone patron who occupies a table meant for six. I find myself judging the people who occupy a booth just because they are waiting for a bigger table to open up. Isn't there supposed to be a certain sense of decorum with which people conduct themselves in places like this? Isn't there some unspoken code that prevents minor injustices like these from happening?

If there aren't, perhaps there should be. Maybe I'll start a one-woman coffee shop revolution. I will be a vigilante of all fine java establishments. I will police the seating areas, making sure all tables are occupied by the appropriate number of patrons. I will make sure that people don't monopolize the drink station thus prohibiting the rest of us from doing the same.

Or I'll just sit and sip my coffee while I watch all of these things taking place, and I will complain to anyone who will listen (or read) before I gather my things and go home.