After the contractor left this morning, at around 11:00 am, I left for work, and decided to stop off for coffee on the way. There is a high school a block from the coffee shop. I must have rolled in right as lunch period began, because there were roaming hoards of teenage punks hanging out in the parking lot, in the coffee shop, and in the pizza joint across the way. A fucken nightmare. Perhaps the only thing worse than young kids are teenagers.
I waited in line for a simple medium coffee, whilst these entitled fucks ordered a variety of drinks which basically amounted to caffeinated milkshakes, and each took about 5 minutes to make. Hell, when I was in high school, you went to school, and you fucken stayed there until it was time to leave, and then took the bus home. You didn't leave mid day and hang out at a coffee shop, or a pizza place, or a parking lot. Hell, when I was in high school, I didn't have money to buy lunch in the cafeteria, let alone spring for a $6 beverage at Starbucks (presumably on top of lunch).
So, all the while, I'm waiting on line, trying not to want to kill myself, and being forced to endure their insipid conversations. The only thing soothing my rage was the thought that, somewhere, were the parents of these bitch-ass-punks and, at some point, they were going to have to spend their weekend dealing with them. I, on the other hand, would be drinking a single malt, watching football and playing poker . . .
Absorbing some of the conversation by osmosis, I could hardly understand half the words. I was also trying not to stare too long (like, creepy long) at the 16 year olds in yoga pants. I mean, when I was in high school, girls did not dress like this. It would take 4 or 5 beers and a bit of good fortune on a Friday night to see what I saw today at 11:00 am in a coffee shop. And, while perhaps I'm off base here, I'd assume if you are dressing like this for school, there must be some explicit cell-phone selfies lurking somewhere. If I was these girls' father, I'd just fucken shoot myself now. To all my friends with young daughters who will soon be of this age group, good-fucken-luck, sirs. As for the guys . . . what a bunch of jokers. I mean, if these kids are "cool," then I no longer know what "cool" is.
I eventually got my coffee, and decided to show these punks what "cool" is, hopping into my G37, rolling back the moonroof and the windows, and exiting the parking lot with haste, radio pumping at a 10 and some sweet, sweet Steve Winwood blasting from the Bose speakers. Bring me some Higher Love, yo!