Sunday, February 5, 2012

January 29-February 5, 2012: A Field Trip

Friday, February 3
Ferris Bueller, everyone’s favorite sage/truant, said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
I heed these words, though not by design and not by taking a day off. My circumstances are somewhat different:
Following a vigorous lunchtime workout at the Y, I return to my dining room table so that I can plow through an afternoon of freelance work and nail an end-of-day deadline. I fire up my MacBook Pro laptop, click on Safari, and…nothing. My Internet is down. This is not good. What will become of the work I must plow through and the deadline I must nail?
Luckily I’m a trained journalist, and I know how to think on my feet. I remember that the Caribou Coffee in my downtown has wireless and plenty of tables. Without further ado, I pack up my “office” (my MacBook Pro, some Post-it notes, a pen and The Chicago Manual of Style), say goodbye to Fluffy and the gang, and race out the door.
To my surprise, Caribou Coffee is hopping. I plop my bag on the only free table and go to the cash register, where I place an order for a large black coffee with a delightfully perky barista. I then mutter something to her about my Internet being down at home.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” she says with a reassuring smile.
After returning to my table and unpacking my office, I take a look around. A knitting club is convened at the largest table. Fueled by years of practice—and perhaps several cups of coffee, too—these women wave their knitting needles the way the heroes in an Alexandre Dumas novel wield their swords. Over in a lounge chair, a silver-haired gent—a retiree, no doubt—is engrossed in a book. The rest of the shop is occupied by mirror images of me: middle-aged men with their laptops. I wonder what dire turns of events brought them to this place and whether they’re here everyday. At any rate, they are typing on their laptops with a sense of purpose, which I find to be both heartening and motivating.
I take a few gulps of coffee and start plowing through my freelance work. My coffee cup is soon empty, and after refilling it, I take another look around. The knitters have departed, replaced by some moms and their kids. The kids are loud and obnoxious in a Chuck E. Cheese’s kind of way, and I long for the grace of the knitters. A glance at my fellow middle-aged drifters sets my mind straight. I take a few gulps of coffee and plow through more freelance work.
Before long, my coffee cup is empty. I visit the delightfully perky barista yet again and order another refill. Two college students have settled into the table next to mine. They discuss their classes with a youthful optimism that rubs off on me. I take a few gulps of coffee and plow through more freelance work.
Before long, my coffee cup is empty, which necessitates another refill. The college students have cleared out, and a robust-looking couple clad in North Face gear has claimed their space. Thanks to some eavesdropping, I learn that the North Face duo is out for a long walk and is taking a break.
I take a few gulps of coffee, plow through the remainder of my freelance work, and nail my deadline. As I leave Caribou Coffee, I have a bounce in my step—and not just because I’m jacked up on caffeine. It occurs to me that I’ve been hermetically sealed in my dining room for the past five months. All the while, life has been moving fast on the outside. Sure, this is just a coffee shop—it’s certainly not Ferris Bueller’s whirlwind trip around Chicago—but I’ve still enjoyed taking a look.

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