Day 20 - Not Very Yogic

"That's not very yogic" is an expression tossed around in certain circles.  I'm not exactly sure what it means.  Inferring from context, I'd guess "not very nice." 

Being nice is something I ascribe to.  See ten rules for life on Day 18.

Maybe I need supplements to boost my niceness quotient.   A prophytlactic guard against situations like this morning's. 

I go into a crowded Starbucks, longing for a table, and just as my God-given good luck would have it, a man is packing up his table, putting away his laptop. 

"Excuse me, sir.  Are you leaving?" 

"Yes!"  He smiles. "Help yourself." 

And I also smile at my good fortune in finding the table and having such a pleasant life generally.  I place my blue coat on the table, reserving it, and order my coffee at the counter.

Tall skim latte in hand, I return and find my table is no longer there and my blue coat has been moved to a long laptop counter with no available seating. 

I am not in the mood for this.  I really want a table.  I announce loudly for God and everyone to hear,

"Who moved the blue coat I put on a table to reserve it while I picked up my coffee?"

A hush settles over the crowded Starbucks.  No one answers.  I am not giving up this easily.

I turn to the couple sitting at a table which might have been mine. 

"Did you move this blue coat?"

"No.  It wasn't us.  When we sat down the table was free.  We've been sitting here for a long time." 

But they probably know who the culprit is.

At this point there is only one likely suspect - a woman with laptop and earbuds who has been ignoring me.  I hate that she shuts me out with her electronic silencers and decide she is not getting away with this.  Interjecting myself into her presence I demand, "Did you move this coat?" 

She attempts innocence. 

"I thought it was left behind.  I thought the table was free."

Right.

"Bullshit you did!   Unplug that electronic crap and go drink your coffee at the bus stop.  I want my God-given table back."

The manager joins us at this point.  He stands beside me with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his toes and staring grimly at the uber-wired table stealer. 

Ashamed, she rips the cord from the outlet, shoves her machine in her bag and leaves the coffee shop red-faced with cappucino spilling down her sleeve.

And so, kind readers.  Thank you for listening to all of the non-yogic things I really felt like saying this morning.