Close to Home

Last Sunday I headed out to Park Avenue for some people watching, coffee drinking, and studying. Park Avenue is a great place to people watch. It is where New Yorkers drop two months rent on the newest Chanel purse, a mortgage payment on a pair of shoes, and an entire year salary on sparkly new earrings. I find pleasure in watching the zoo of shoppers hustle from store to store. I got lucky and snagged a seat by the window at a coffee shop called Seattle Cafe. My intentions of studying were overruled by my wandering eye. I spent more time staring at the shoppers than studying.

In a brief moment of taking my eyes off the street, I saw a tragic footwear mishap. The man next to me was wearing socks with flip-flops. Not just any pair of socks...they had individual pockets for each toe (like a glove). I did not know this was socially acceptable beyond the border of Washington state. Maybe he thought he was literally in Seattle and not just a cafe by the same name.

The combination of sitting in Seattle Cafe and sitting next to a sock and flip-flop wearing man, made me feel a little closer to home. It was a good feeling.