Profiling
I have been waiting for this moment for a long time. A few years, actually. Yesterday, after dropping my son off at his music lesson, I headed to a nearby Starbucks to hang out for the 45 minute session. When I pulled into the parking lot, there, in the last spot, sat a big, vulgar, bright yellow Hummer.
I have always maintained that I could walk into a room full of strangers and pick out a Hummer driver from the crowd (admittedly based on the prejudice that all Hummer drivers are assholes), but I have never been able to test that theory. Until now. In my fantasy, I would pick out the Hummer driver at a dinner party after mingling and talking to all the guests. I never imagined that the experiment would take place at a Starbucks where I would have to make my judgment on physical clues alone.
Inside the coffee shop, four tables were occupied with groups of two to five people. Off to the side, along the wall nearest the parking lot, was a padded bench under a window. One man sat there alone, doing a newspaper crossword puzzle. I dismissed him immediately as the potential owner of the Hummer since he seemed to be doing well with the puzzle and, in my cynical view, wordsmithery is not a trait to be ascribed to a Hummer owner.
The man and the woman sitting at the table closest to the barista were also unlikely suspects. The two were dressed simply and practically for the cold weather we have been experiencing. They sat drinking their coffee and talking softly. They smiled at each other. They seemed nice. So there was no way they were Hummer owners.
At the next table over was another man and woman. They were both dressed in black, head to toe. He in a black sport coat, black t-shirt, his black sunglasses pushed up on his short dark hair. He had a black (dyed?) goatee. He was humorless. His business companion (it was clear they did not know each other casually) also had dark hair and wore a black business suit coat, short black dress, black tights and black thigh-high stiletto boots. She babbled incessantly and gestured a lot in broad imaginary geometric patterns with her arms. She had about a hundred Post-it notes spread out on the table. They were the prime suspects from the moment I laid eyes on them.
In the middle of the store was a weary-looking suburban mom with two young daughters. The girls – all pony tails and glimmering teeth – sat and tinkered about with their homework while mom sipped her coffee and smiled the smile of Prozac contentment. This scene gave me pause. How many times have I pulled up alongside a massive SUV only find a mom behind the wheel and bunch of kids, dogs, soccer equipment in the back seat? A lot of working dads like to know that their families are safe behind the wheel of a tank on the road. Maybe this mom was the driver of the Hummer.
The last occupied table at the Starbucks, near the front door, had five hip twenty-somethings wearing wool sweaters, colorful scarves, beanies and microfleece ear warmers. They looked as though they were on break from filming a Sprint PCS commercial. I couldn’t imagine them having anything to do with the Hummer outside. But then, you never know.
After I got my coffee I went over to the bench by the window and got a better view of the crossword puzzle guy. He was Arian in appearance; his blonde hair was only a shade or two lighter than Hummer yellow. He wore a camel colored, ribbed turtleneck sweater, white cargo pants, hiking boots and an expensive mountaineering jacket over his shoulders. When he turned his head I could see that he had scabs on his nose and a black eye. He held his right arm as if it were in a sling. When it moved even a little bit, he winced. I started to wonder about this guy. There was something odd about him. Was he a red herring in this experiment? Or the real thing?
I sat on the bench and waited. Nobody made a move for the longest time. I began to worry that I would have to leave before knowing the answer. My time was running out. But then, finally, there was motion toward the door and into the parking lot, but not to the Hummer. The first to exit got into a boxy Scion and drove off. One by one, the others got up and left, too, passing by the Hummer until just one possibility remained. And then he/she/they ambled out of the coffee shop to the parking lot. There was the push of a remote unlock button. The blinking of tail lights on the big yellow beast. The mystery was solved irrefutably. The owner of the hummer was...
(Did you think I was going to make it that easy?)
9:38:00 PM  Stories
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