Scenes From a Coffee Shop

After law school I had to take the bar exam. Preparation, in true over achiever fashion, involved 8-10 hours a day 6 days a week of solid study time. There is only so much time you can spend in the library before you want to become the unibomber. So my study buddy and I found a little hole in the wall coffee shop and started planting ourselves there.

Like all good hole in the wall places, this coffee shop contained a society of it's own. We soon became accepted as "regulars" and got to know everyone else. This is when I met and started seeing Mr. Jackass. Mr. Jackass was a fixture at the coffee shop. He had been a fixture for a very long time. He knew everyone, everyone knew him, and through him I learned about everyone's dirty secrets and their life history's. It was a very interesting sociological study to tell you the truth.

One of the people he told me about was his friend who was in Pennsylvania with his kids. Mr. Jackass didn't know if his friend was coming home, but he really wanted me to meet his friend. He said we would get along very well. We liked to debate the same way, so he said.

After I finished taking the bar exam, I took some time off to recover. Trust me, recovery was needed. One Wednesday afternoon, about 3:30 I was hanging out at the coffee shop, waiting for Mr. Jackass to show up. I was reading the first book in the Baroque Trilogy by Neil Stephenson. I was sitting at a round table in the corner, with a view of the door and the bar. It was sunny. I was wearing capri's and a blue shirt. My favorite barrista was working. I was in a bad mood.

I had been sitting there for a while, not really reading, just watching people mill around. Listening to the conversations going on around me. There was a stranger sitting at the bar. At this point I knew all the regulars, and new people were odd. The barrista was talking to this guy like he was a long lost friend, so I assumed he was a regular too. But he didn't belong there.

The stranger exuded poise. With an air of confidence worn only by men who can make the world stand on it's ear, he sat at the bar sipping his coffee. After a while he got up and came over to my table. I watched him over the top of my book. His eyes never wavered. His step never faltered. Intently, without intensity he came over. My stomach lurched.

The impression I had at first was not a good one. He didn't fit in with the rest of the slackers at the coffee shop. He was dangerous. Not only dangerous in the "I can kill a man using only my thumb" kinda way, but in the way he made my head spin. I knew it was a bad idea to be around him. I knew he was a player. I knew he was the break your heart and leave you cryin kinda guy. I had heard all the stories.

He introduced himself. Mr. Stonecold. The friend Mr. Jackass had told me about. He told me he had heard about me from the barrista and he was glad to have finally met the "lawyer". I told him I had heard about him from Mr. Jackass and asked about his trip. We chatted for a bit. Mr. Jackass showed up. I left. I didn't see him again for a few weeks. When I saw him again I couldn't remember his name.

That was almost exactly three years ago. Strange, the things that play in your head when you're trying to fall asleep.