Blowing & Drifting

My conference ended two hours early, so I have a few minutes to kill. Actually, a whole herd of minutes, which I'm systematically offing in a Starbucks in suburban Albany. The shop occupies the end of a strip mall full of high-end clothing and knick-knack shops; the parking lot is clogged with luxury cars. There's a constant stream of fur-coated, Gucci-bagged women to and from the counter. Quite in contrast, the other long-term occupants of the shop are a couple hipster student types, tapping away at their laptops, and an older guy who's alternately listening to a big old radio, reading a copy of today's New York Post, and falling asleep on his table. His fly's undone. I think it might be time for his caregiver to come and get him.