I'm back in Santa Monica this February morning, and life at Starbucks is star-struck.
They're featuring the new Blondie blend, and most of the women seem to be complying. The baristas should ask, "Natural Blondie or Streaked?"
Admittedly, everyone here seems more fit than I am. Carrying ventes around builds muscles. Four people are working on their computers. I wonder if simultaneous invention will result in four screenplays exactly alike, with Scarlett Johansson playing all the roles. Boy meets girl; boy goes to Starbucks, meets other girl; first girl decides to only go the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf from now on.
The woman on my right is actually reading a newspaper, even though she looks much too young. She's at least on medium behind.
There are advertising agencies up and down Wilshire Boulevard; Honda's agency is in the next block in a tall white building overlooking the ocean. I wonder if my commercials would've been different if my offices overlooked the ocean. Most of the time me offices overlooked other buildings.
Los Angeles doesn't seem to have the same electricity New York does, but the people look more relaxed. Less crushed, more relaxed. Maybe they're better at faking it, I don't know. Starbucks is wired but these people aren't.
An evolved couple just got together for a discussion two tables away. I know they're evolved because she's wearing heels with her jeans, and he's wearing penny loafer with his. They're in an animated discussion. I don't know which is the seller and which is the sellee. They're talking private jets.
In a couple I've be back in the San Francisco Bay Area, where cars are older, Starbucks less blonde, and the people are texting.
But for now, I'm enjoying the change, constantly wondering, what do they know that I don't?