It was 10:39 P.M. and I drove 24 minutes to the only Starbucks in Houston that’s open 24 hours. I’m certain I passed at least 20 other locations on my way, but I knew that once I got settled in I wouldn’t want to be interrupted by some pesky barista telling me it’s closing time.

I hate when they do that. I’m not paying $4.55 for them to tell time. I pay for sub par coffee that has been marketed really well, not overachievers.

In all of the years I have been coming to this location I have never seen it empty. So, when I entered, I had a decision to make.

Seating was heavily limited, and the line to order almost met me at the entrance. My intentions were to write on my laptop so I opted to secure seating.

I approached a fluffy looking girl named Krista at the laptop station, and asked her if anyone was sitting next to her. She said she didn’t know, but that I could have her seat when she left in a few minutes. I was overjoyed, and I asked her if she could watch my bag as I waited in line. She said yes with a reassuring smile, and I said “Thank you so much! I trust you.”

I walked to the line and overviewed the menu for the newest breakthroughs in caffeinated creations. I noticed a really cute Indian girl who got in line behind me. I considered turning on the charm, but then I noticed the new Caramel Brulee Latte.

So much for love.

I ordered my coffee, and went to see what Krista was up to. But, upon my return I found my laptop bag sitting unattended, and Krista nowhere in sight. That roughish female left my precious commodity unattended amidst the unsavory nightlife of a capitalist coffeehouse!

Thank God there was a honorable chap named Charles who noticed that she had left it. He told me that he had been watching it for me, and I graciously shook his hand and said, “Thank You.”

I thought about buying him a reduced fat cinnamon swirl coffee cake, but then the attractive Indian woman came walking by.

So much for gratitude.

Maybe I’m just too trustworthy of lethal gypsy women, but I really thought she would wait. I mean what if it had gotten stolen? Not only would faithful readers be deprived of my the latest nonsensical ramblings, but I would have lost all of the music I’ve been stealing for the past 2 years!

The negligent act of one could have affected hundreds and maybe thousands of readers. Thousands can turn into tens of thousands over night, and before you know society’s deprivation of liberal print journalism will plunge this troubled nation into the Great Depression part deux!

First they took our money, but now they want our sense of humor. This country can’t afford to lose any laughter.

But perhaps I’m no better than a roughish heifer. I didn’t even buy Charles a pastry for his good deed. And even when I had a second thought about strolling to the counter to get him a cake, I saw the Indian girl leave. When she opened the door she let a crisp November breeze slap me in the face. It’s 12:34 A.M., and I think it just got a bit colder inside.

But my beverage warms me up. Thanks for doing your job barista.