oh my god

this is the 401 of coffeeshop line-ups: being in it is like being caught in rush-hour-toronto highway traffic, where "rush hour" is all the time. and, just like the 401, line-ups like this can test the limits of your patience and tolerance. but, on the highway, at least you're enclosed within your four-wheeled, metal capsule. so, while bumper-to-bumpering your way to work can be truly frustrating (*cue the road rage*), you're pretty comfy: the temperature's just the way you like it, you're blasting the Whitney (oh, yes you are!), you're thinking your thoughts -- even, on occasion, shouting them out (Buddy! what the [----] are you doing?!?) -- and the rainhailsleetsnow can't touch ya. ah, the freedom of the (not-so-) open road!

in this campus line-up, by contrast, there's very little separating you from your travel companions (aka your fellow hot-beverage addicts). which, of course, can be part of the charm: three cheers for friendly, spontaneous face-to-face interaction! on the other hand, the twenty-minute shuffle towards your heroin(e)-of-choice offers little in the way of protection against the elements. conversational elements, that is. (and not just the kind Lulu sprays when on her cell.) exposure to them can be about as comfortable as witnessing that long, racy sex scene in a movie you're watching with your parents. (*shiver*) today, for instance, i'm shuffling directly behind a bigenerational male duo: one thoughtful and passive sixty-year-old mentor type; one intense and dynamic nineteen-year-old Davy Jones lookalike. with two-hundred percent of the arrogance and condescension of any Jimmy Swaggart, Davy does ninety percent of the yammering...

you know, people need to look not to the wisdom of man but to the power of god.

[...]

i was speaking with this woman who said she was going to be angry for the rest of her life because she'd been confined to a wheelchair, and i told her: NO! no, you don't have to be angry your whole life. Jesus never complained! he never asked: "why, God? why did you put a mountain in my way?" he just said: "move, Mountain." [Mentor nods pensively.]

[...]

i ran into this homeless man and asked him how he was doing. he said his back was sore. and i said: "here...let me take a look." [stretches arms out in front of him, showing his healing powers.] it was amazing!

Mentor: you obviously have a gift. 
Davy: i really do.

as we (finally) reach our destination, the barista says: were you making a joke? 

as it turns out, he's talking to his co-worker about something unrelated. but it feels like poetic justice to me.

and now back to translating...