She’s playing with her hair. Hand to her forehead. Deep in reading. Her right hand holds her textbook tight, readying to turn the page. Starbuck Grande sits in front of her. Has the nice brown skirt to make it holdable. Dasani is to her left, my right. Asian, hair in a pony tail. Has slight pudge. Wearing jean shorts and a black tee. Form-fitting, tee. Korean, maybe? Chinese? I’m betting Korean. Her eyes are plucked. Her tee has some 80’s neon thing going on. She’s studying something with small writing. Her eyes blinks here and there. Pony tail is atop her head.
She leans back. Her neck aches. I know this ache. It comes from keeping your head down for what seems like hours, committing some odd factoid to memory. It seems vital at the moment. Import, like some highly-classified secret, that will save the world. Don't have the heart to tell her it's not that important. Her right hand is to her mouth. Picking at her teeth. Her right arm covers the right page as she leans forward keeping some meaningless factoid into memory. Maybe she'll use it in some scenario for the future. She has a look of Nursing student, but I don’t think that’s it. Textbooks are usually larger and usually, there is a group. Med student. Perhaps, she is an MBA? I don’t get that tough feel about her. Probably Business major, marketing or some management science degree. Accounting, hmmm. Possibly this.
CSUN, perhaps? Not an AVC feel.She looks to old. Too serious. I can feel that Model Minority pressure. Her parents must be made proud to have her daughter get that perfect job that will find her the right man. I heard this talk all the time from many of the Asian parties I've attended.
The table to my right are high school students. I hear talk about being accepted to UC Davis and Santa Clara, but get denied to UCLA. University of Caucasians Lost in Asians. He’s Mexican. The other two are Asian, I think. Femmes. Mixed. I hear, ". . .1920. . ." This is the SAT score, I bet. There are talks of friend getting and not getting in. One says her sister doesn’t like the school she's at. UC Riverside. I could told her that. It smells there. I think it's either the cows or the factory smell.
Ladies in front of me are of different ilk. One is perusing US Magazine. Some celebrity mag and beauty makeover rag. Wannabe Fashionistas. I see “Skin sense” on the page she is reading There's model with blue eyeliner on the cover showing a surprised look. The girl to her left, my left, too. She’s reviewing the table of contents. She’s deep in thought. "How to cut calories. . ." Girls are 14 or 15.
Oh, oh. Pony-tail man with taupe “Members Only” jacket is back. He’s eyeing his seat. An Argentinean man is sitting in his chair. He’s got a red book to his left, my right. He’s deeply engaged reading some Spanish book. It has 2012. They say civilization is going to end at that time, according to Mayan Prophecy. Even made a movie with John Cusack about this very tale. Little does he know that he’s getting eyeballed by the members only guy. His 2012 is coming sooner than he knows. I snicker.
Gosh, the high schooler has the same look as the Asian business student. Can’t hear what she is saying, but she talks when she reads. I see her lips move. She looking at all the charts of the Diet books she’s reading. She’s sophomore or a junior. That is a stretch. Table next to me, the college rejects, are juniors and seniors. There conversations are of futures to come and the ideal life of ruling the world and great programs. They speak of the Anderson and Pre-law programs. Anderson the graduate program at UCLA.
Back to Wanna-be model's table. Rounded back, small chest and big belly. Her tank top is trying to accentuate her who-hoss. Not really working. Her rimmed glasses hide her manicured face. Full lips and her pink Sidekick sits on her white, giant bag. She flips through the diet book trying to commit these health factoids to memory in the short 20 minutes she's here. I want to grab her and tell her, stop eating the Snickers in your hand and work out. Don't need a damn book to figure this out. Physical beauty is temporary. Oh, well. Big Belly here she comes.
Asian business student gets up and leaves. She takes her bag. Betting it’s a potty break. Her slippers flip and flop when she walks. She hurries. Must be a potty break. I saw her outside smoking up a chimney. She is a business student. Would bet money. They are always under stressed. Networking here and there.
Reminds me of the people at SMG at BU. Sex, Money, and Greed--we used to call it at BU. BU stands for Boston University, not Baylor. It was USC East. University of Spoiled Children. BU had SMG. SMG stood for the School of Management. There was CLA. College of Liberal Arts, aka, College of Lost Ambitions. There was SFA. School of Fine Arts. Aka School of Fucking Asses. There was CBS. College of Basic Studies. Basically, it was a Junior College for those that wanted to pay $40,000 per year for tuition. I mean it was called College of Basic Studies. I used to call it Charlie Brown School. I stopped. I like Lucy and Woodstock.
The African Triad are concerned about the looks. I got the BSU feel at AVC. Its like FASA at CSUN. FASA is Filipino American Student Association. She pulls out an orange, smelling lotion. Bed, Bath & Beyond. She lotions her hands and forearms. Her friend to her left. Not the same one as before. She’s facing me. Blocked by the girl who’s back to me. She wears no glasses, like the other two. She has magenta highlights to the side of her face. She’s wearing a black sweater. She plays with her hair. Purple tip nails click clack on her book. It’s annoying. I can’t hear it I know its annoying. The UCLA rejects keeps looking her way. Throw something at her, its annoying and I can't hear her. Maybe its the magenta highlights. Bulls have that same reaction when you wave a red cape in front of them.
Asian girls is back. She peed. No, I wouldn’t know that. You can tell when a guy pees. Sometimes when they leave the bathroom they got the dribbles at the front of their pants. If they don’t do the tinkle, or give it the shakes, there tends to be an overflow. Older men call it the the drips. I just laugh. I wipe just in case I don’t notice. It’s funny.
Member’s Only man is sitting in the chair behind the Argentinean man who is sitting in his table. It’s his table. I am psychic. I feel his thoughts and they are just screaming, "Get out of my table." Little does he know. Wait. It worked. Argentinian man got and left. Members Only is still deep in Psionic attack mode. He hasn’t noticed his table is free. People must block all distractions and must be in their safe place/ I will give him a minute.
Nope. He's not psychic concentrations. He's working on his check book. Same body language, Psychic Attack and working on check book. I see pen in hand and the flip of the check book. Enough of this. I best be going.
Goodbye, Korean Business student. Goodbye High School students concerned with weight and fashion. Goodbye UCLA reject and Asian student buddies. Goodbye Members Only. Time to write something new.
