Well … someone is wound up just a little too tightly, now aren’t they!?!

“Starbucks … security!  Someone has been over served.” 

There I was, sitting at the coffee shop, minding my own business, drinking a venti black tea and also the 120 gallons of water my docs recommend daily … when it hit me.

The urge … ha .. the dire-necessity, surprise attack in my case these days … simmer down … we’re talking #1 for the record … 

But like Charlie Rich once sang, who really “knows what goes on behind closed doors …”  I digress …

As I got up from my chair, I noticed the friendly barista had just come from that part of the cafe, so I was all like “woohoo … possibly a clean bathroom.” (Such a delicacy … ha … wrong word … rarity at a Starbucks …)

I put the computer safely in my leather easy chair and approached.

Behind door number one … well, someone was using it.  Door locked … no success … not for me anyway.

I tried the second and last door available to me, gently trying to tug on the door.  

Foiled again.  It too was locked.

(No … you should be ashamed of yourselves if you are laughing, thinking the old Ping dint get to the Fi before he Wi’ed:) … so to speak.)

I took a step backward, preparing to wait quietly … ok … I might have been dancing around a little big …

When all of the sudden, this gut-wrenching, screaming, mad, coarse female voice yelled at me from behind the door.

“Stop it!  The door is locked!  It’s occupied you stupid son of a b….  You’ve knocked … you’ve pushed on the door … you’ve twisted the knob … Leave me alone you ’SUPER TRUCKER*.’” (* She did not say ‘super trucker’ … she actually yelled another term of non-endearment so that pretty much everyone in the cafe stopped all caffeine intake, turned and stared at me …)

I meekly backed up against the wall … smiling … as some of the other patrons in the cafe smiled, but whispered among themselves speculating just what the commotion was all about.

Then this woman flings the bathroom door open, kind of gets in my face a little bit, as I continue smiling.

She again gives her account of how she wrongly thought I had tried to interrupt her special time behind the door.

I smiled bigger … and going back to a more genteel time addressed her with respect.  “‘Lady’ … I just tried the door handle for the first time … I haven’t knocked or anything … I just walked up and tried the door for the first time. You do know there are other people in Starbucks, right?”

I deduce the friendly barista had probably wanted to clean the facilities — to scratch that off her to-do list and probably gave a quick, but courteous knock.  Then walked off …

… Leaving the Ping to wear the blame bling.

I continued to assure the crazy person that it wasn’t me, and I thought about reassuring her that she is totes cray cray (if I truly understand the meaning of the jargon).

She stormed out … still muttering, as me and everyone else made funny mental notes about her apparel.  Her … for a lack of a better word … nasty looking little boots were black … but around each was a generous little wrap of goldish … brownish … blonde-sh animal fur.

I don’t know fashion, but I know when I don’t see it … to paraphrase and old patron of the arts.

Imagine some crazy woman stomping out of the cafe wearing gaudy boots that kind of look as if two of your old, dowager great, great aunts are clinging to each foot trying to hang on for the wild ride, while wearing their best fox-hair stole. Imagine it looking sort of like that … no wait.

Image a woman wearing stiletto heels that had accident stepped on two rescue animals, piercing them … and just kept on walking …

She was like that.

I hope her fiber works for her and that the rest of the day gets better and better.

Dang it … more water calling my name.  Wish me luck.

Know what I sayin?