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May. 13th, 2005 04:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonny_kateAn interesting thing happened just now when I bought my drink (decaf blended mocha, because I like chocolate and coffee but avoid caffeine) at Common Grounds (the coffee shop on campus). I'm debating what to get (as I always do) before settling on what I always get. So far, normal. I walk up to the register, tell them what I want, and the girl working mumbles something and slides someone else's card (id cards carrying points redeemable at the coffee shop). I ask again, because I really didn't hear what she said, or at least I'm not sure. She gives a glance to the other girl working, who grins, and then tells me that the guy with the laptop bought my drink. At this point, I'm in the stunned, unsure how to react stage. Also being practical, I'm wondering if this guy meant to buy a drink for me, or just the next girl who walked in (since there was someone in front of me, it wasn't just for the next person in line). I sneak a glance, but he is wrapt in his laptop, not really paying attention. There are a few little nervous, happy butterflies in my stomach. I get my drink and walk out, still curious (because, after all, curiosity killed the cat, and I am most definitely a Kat), but the guy doesn't make eye contact. I am not quite bold enough to walk up to him and ask why he bought my drink if he isn't even looking at me.
I walk a few steps before I hear someone calling out. It's a girl, holding a half sheet of paper, her hair tight golden waves around her face. She asks if I wouldn't mind filling out a form about what just happened. The butterflies are suddenly gone, and I tell myself that it was too good to be true, that there's no reason that a guy I don't know would buy my drink, that I knew somehow that it was weird already. I take the paper and circle that I'm female, circle two numbers about how comfortable I was with someone buying the drink (a little uncomfortable, I suppose, but more unsure than anything else), how grateful I was (not terribly grateful, just interested). She smiles, but not a real smile, only a necessary smile to show that she's thankful. I suppose I respond to her thank you by saying no problem, or something like that.
It's still a gorgeous day, and even knowing that I was the hamster in someone's psychology experiment (because that is what it undoubtedly was), can't dampen the day. It's warm, the perfect temperature, promising summer with all its joys, the breeze reminding that it's still yet spring. But I'm still thinking, wistful, because I wish they had just watched my reactions, not asked me. I wish they would have let me think that the guy with the laptop bought my drink, because my day had, for a few brief moments, my life was exciting, like a novel.
I walk a few steps before I hear someone calling out. It's a girl, holding a half sheet of paper, her hair tight golden waves around her face. She asks if I wouldn't mind filling out a form about what just happened. The butterflies are suddenly gone, and I tell myself that it was too good to be true, that there's no reason that a guy I don't know would buy my drink, that I knew somehow that it was weird already. I take the paper and circle that I'm female, circle two numbers about how comfortable I was with someone buying the drink (a little uncomfortable, I suppose, but more unsure than anything else), how grateful I was (not terribly grateful, just interested). She smiles, but not a real smile, only a necessary smile to show that she's thankful. I suppose I respond to her thank you by saying no problem, or something like that.
It's still a gorgeous day, and even knowing that I was the hamster in someone's psychology experiment (because that is what it undoubtedly was), can't dampen the day. It's warm, the perfect temperature, promising summer with all its joys, the breeze reminding that it's still yet spring. But I'm still thinking, wistful, because I wish they had just watched my reactions, not asked me. I wish they would have let me think that the guy with the laptop bought my drink, because my day had, for a few brief moments, my life was exciting, like a novel.
