I suppose the driver didn't get the message that it's July 4th weekend and American the Beautiful would be more fitting. I feel like I should clue him in to some more seasonally appropriate songs, since I consider myself an expert on holiday music and even hummed My Country, 'Tis of Thee while I cooked dinner tonight and warned Matt to get ready for a weekend of song because I have lots of patriotic numbers in my repertoire.
I use the word repertoire like I regularly sing someplace more sophisticated than our stall shower and the occasional elevator with good acoustics.
Anyway, we kicked off the holiday weekend yesterday afternoon. Matt and I had dinner reservations at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse at 7:00, but my office closed early for the holiday so I took the train downtown a few hours early.
Matt met me at the train station and showed me his office, but unfortunately he was in the midst of a major work deadline so I hung out at the Starbucks down the street until he was finished working.
And let me tell you, I could write a book about what I witnessed during my ninety minutes in that Philadelphia Starbucks.
The only seat available was at a high top table, quite unfortunately located right next to the bathroom, but the alternative was sitting on a bench in the rain outside next to the people with ACLU shirts handing out flyers, so I took the table.
About five minutes into my visit I learned that the code to the bathroom was 1776, which I'm sure would make our Founding Fathers so proud.
I became the unofficial keeper of the code, and whenever someone would try to open the bathroom door and realize there was a code, I would just say, "It's 1776."
God Bless America.
I brought a book with me, but I was so preoccupied people watching that I only read 23 pages.
There were two women sitting at the counter against the window with bare feet and no visible shoes.
They were sitting next to a man with a sleeveless shirt and a paper number from a run safety-pinned to the back of his shirt. Interestingly enough, he'd paired the running number/shirt with jeans and pair of sensible loafers.
A half hour into my visit, a woman with an accent and a handful of maps asked if she could sit at the other stool at my table for a minute. I said yes because she looked like a tired tourist who could use a little rest while she waited for her drink. But then she proceeded to change the numerous band aids covering the blisters on her feet.
A lady came in with quite a large dog who had a menacing bark. I would know because he barked for five solid minutes.
There was also the woman sitting right next to the door who asked every patron what they'd ordered before they left.
"What did you get?"
"A skinny venti iced caramel macchiato."
"How about you?"
"A flat white."
"What's that drink?"
"It's the new Youthberry White Tea Granita."
Eventually I decided to wander to the Macy's down the street because I wanted to make sure my hair and makeup were on point for date night, and all I had at my disposal was the teeny tiny mirror on the end of my chapstick, and the mirror in the 1776 bathroom that I wouldn't enter for a million bucks after I watched the parade of characters going in and out over the last hour.
Matt met me at Macy's, and then we wandered around the city for a bit and then headed to dinner. We had two Ruth's Chris gift cards so we went ALL. OUT. I didn't even eat again until about 2:00 this afternoon, and even then I had a few bites of my leftovers and was full again.
But now that I'm thinking about it, I could go for a sweet treat.
I just need to follow the Christmas carols to the ice cream truck.