It's not often I'm early...

But today I was an hour early to meet my parents for lunch.

So while I waited I took a walk up to the Starbucks on the corner of Lothian Road. I'm sure I'm still barred from starbucks, after losing my mind at a customer a couple of years back, but I know the manager of the Starbucks in question and therefore can safely enter.

I was greeted with a smile by Andy, an old friend from back in my youth that I used to get terribly drunk with and asked him for a large latte. "Do you want an extra shot in there mate?" He asked.
"No way man, I want an extra three shots in it." I said.
"It's already got two shots in it. So do you want an extra shot to make it three?" He questioned.
"Nope, I want an extra three shots in it to make five. I just got out my bed an hour ago. My heart needs a jump-start." I said.

The assistant, a rather pleasant looking girl with a nice smile, commented that I'd never sleep again and I smiled and said I'd sleep more than enough when I'm dead. I was handed my coffee within a minute and I turned around and went to the little counter where they keep the sugar and other accoutrements.

(When I say accoutrements I mean those things that aren't really necessary, but due to clever marketing we think that they are an essential part of coffee drinking. The only thing that's essential when you're having a coffee is something to put it in. Like a mug. Pouring hot coffee directly into your hands isn't an option, unless you're the kind that likes hospital food as much as you like Starbucks coffee.)

I shouted a goodbye to Andy and got the hell out before I asked for a copy of Celebrity Shit magazine and settled into a large sofa. (As the rest of the idiots in the Starbucks seemed to be doing.) I wandered down to where I was supposed to be meeting my folks and settled down on the steps of the Lyceum Theatre to drink my coffee, smoke a cigarette and have a read at my book. (Humboldt's Gift by Saul Bellow if you're interested.)

I sat for a few minutes listening to my MP3 player blasting out the likes of the Black Eyed Peas, The Arctic Monkeys and various other bands I currently think are worthy of stopping the voices in my head.

As I lit my third cigarette, in almost as many minutes, a woman who was sitting on the steps tapped me on the shoulder. I yelped, as she had inadvertently tapped me directly on the most painful part of my shoulder and I pulled my earphone out so I could hear whatever it was she wanted to tell me. "What?" I asked.
"Would you mind putting your cigarette out? The smoke is blowing right into my face." She said.

I looked over the top of my sunglasses and said, "Would you mind sitting somewhere else?"
"I beg your pardon?" She said.
"Well, if my smoke bothers you so much why don't you go and sit somewhere else. That seems to me to be the most logical answer, don't you think?" I said, purposely taking another large drag on my cigarette and blowing the smoke into her face.

"Allow me to put it another way sweetheart..." I continued, "I'll give you a choice. You can either go and sit somewhere else or you can suffer a cigarette burn when I put this out on your forehead. Take your time with your decision, just don't take too long as this cigarette will only last about another drag or two."

She mumbled something about me being a bastard but I ignored it and popped my headphone back into my ear. As she turned and walked away I said "Oh, by the way... Your arse looks fat in those trousers."