I’m sitting in a cafe in downtown Davis, one of the few independents left down here as they all fall away to the plain jane nondescript chains that spring up between the cracks of the sidewalks overnight like weeds.
There are about 20 people in the cafe today. 11 of them are sitting in front of laptop computers. Over half of the laptops are Apples. Nice.
I’m in good company.
I’m draining an iced chai and arguing with ArcView while Ella Fitzgerald and Chick Webb are singing me a swing song over the cafe’s sound system. It’s an old recording – obviously – but it sounds old, if that makes any sense. Like I might turn around and see a gramophone in the corner. It’s a sound that always reminds me of waiting in line for the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland on hot days. That will either make sense to you or it won’t.
ArcView is slow and ornery today. It’s not moving as fast as I’m thinking. That’s okay. Something about the music, and heat radiating off the pavement outside, and chocolate chip cookie by my side is telling me I’m not in a rush.
Ella takes her leave and Christopher Columbus takes a turn, giving away to some tune I can’t quite name.
It’s funny. I don’t know a single person in this room, but working here is less lonely.