Apr 26, 2006

Starbucks Patrons Assaulted By Toddlers...

...well, more or less. I take my two year old daughter to a gym class every Saturday a.m. After class, a bunch of us load up our strollers with our writhing toddlers and head over to Starbucks to re-fuel. Typically, there's about four parents. Three of 'em are packing doubles--two kids each. That means seven little ones, twelve to twenty-three months of crying, happy, laughing, jumping, playing todds.

Yeah, you should see the looks we get when we roll in, pushing our convoy of strollers. People shake heads, roll eyes, guffaw, tsk and generally wet themselves at the site of our arrival. Now I know what the Romans felt like when the Vandals showed up ready to sack the place.

Of course, not so long ago I was on the other side of that $4.00 grande two-shot, extra-hot skim cappuccino. Now, its like "any port in a storm". I mean, once you become a parent its like you're viewed as an escapee from a leper colony. You know, you keep showing up at all the places you used to go, but people kind of turn their heads, avoid eye contact and ignore you? Same deal at Starbucks. People stare across the top of their java at you like you personally just brought in a batch of fresh Ebola virus spores and dumped 'em to the ventilator shaft.

But like any self-respecting leper, you learn to ignore the nasty looks, pick your diseased limb off the ground and shuffle along back to your cave. Only problem is, before you do that--you have to secure a table for you and your co-lepers so you can suck down over-priced scalding drinks while simultaneously toddler-wresting a wriggly two year old, save them from asphyxiating on handfuls of lemon pound cake, keep from kicking over the table and carry on meaningful, interesting conversations with other adults who are also living on rationed sleep.

So we roll in to the 'bucks and can you believe it? I spot a free table. Starbucks, 10:30am Saturday morning--primo caffenation hour and I find a free table. Only problem is, the table's in the middle of the room which means we won't be able to fit our strollers next to us. But the table next to it only has a dad and his five year old son--and next to them there's no tables. Just wide open free space. A welcoming plateau of stroller-accommodating grazing land. Our Mecca.

I make a bee-line to dad and his boy, and roll up just as he gulps down the welcoming sip of his java-juice. "Hey, any chance I could switch tables with you guys?". I mean, I'm asking him to relocate all of two feet. Well, angry-dad gives me this look like I just shoveled glass shards in to his drink. He doesn't even reply, just looks me up and down...then up and down. Finally, he makes this big show of like, swallowing his sip, glares at me and goes "Because you have...a stroller?!".

Okay, so I'm like a Buddhist forever, right? So this stuff is supposed to just roll of me like water/duck. But honestly, I can be kind of confrontational (Hmmm, wouldn't have anything to do with DRINKING TOO MUCH COFFEE WOULD IT?) when pushed. And this is exactly the kind of situation where I can justify my self-righteousness (protective father, a helping friend, blah/justify/blah/justify) and go right back at someone.

But the wildest thing happens. Nothing. I mean, this guy fires a hate-rocket at me and it just...passes right through my body. Zoom. Right through. I feel nothing. Nada. Zip. No anger. No impulse to attack/defend/repeat. My mind doesn't even do a double take, you know where I hear myself go after someone then have to talk myself down before I come up with some faux-polite response? Just big, vivid alive space. There isn't even a jet trail from the hate-rocket, just space.

So Space-Dana replies, "No, there's a group of us". Its almost like I'm having this really civil conversation with myself, he's not even an obstacle--he's just kind of this non-threatening outline/cut-out of a person and I've chosen to not color in the cut-out with my projection of anger/threat/obstacle/fill in the emotion. Turns out he's a one-rocket guy and the next thing I know he switches tables and bingo--everyone's has what they need, sans hostility. For the most part.

What hit me right between the eyes most keenly is how much healthier it is to not project. It hit me because I felt different. What I felt was normal. Not like I just had some kind of flame-out which had left me charred, the burnt stench of which I'd be feeling and smelling for hours/days to come. So there 'ya go. My advice? Don't grab on to your own solid state of mind so tightly it gives you agita. And even if you're sure the other person's your problem, bear in mind just for fun, it could be a whole self-imposed smoke and mirrors thing.

Oh, the big bonus of the whole thing? Two tables away there was a family of three? Their kids were screaming so loud it was blowing the plastic lids off people's lattes and no one even noticed our happy little table of Gremlins.