|image credit: https://www.kqed.org/bayareabites/89705/|
I had just been handed my chai matcha latte at the matcha latte shop on the corner. The problem with matcha lattes is the green foam. I mean really green foam. When the foam spurts out the top of your to-go cup, it looks as if a leprechaun projectile vomited on your sleeve.
And so it happened. Ick.
I needed to sponge off my sleeve before the damp green blobs became permanent. I headed toward the door of the matcha latte shop intent on getting back to my apartment fast. Only one block — my chances of success seemed good.
I encountered an obstacle.
A short young woman putting on her gigantic Canadian Goose puffy jacket blocked the doorway. I mean fully blocked the doorway. Her hood was up, so I figured she had the no-peripheral-vision hood problem and muffled hearing and did not notice my aggressive approach.
“Excuse me,” I said. No response. Goose girl continued to fumble with her gloves.
“Excuse me,” I said again, loud this time.
No acknowledgment. Just a chick standing squarely in the middle of the doorway twirling a scarf and trying to pull up her coat zipper and not getting too far because of the scarf and gloves and her giant hood with all the fur clearly obstructing all motor coordination.
It was frustrating to witness. I would have helped her but that might not be socially acceptable. If she simply stepped one foot forward or one foot back, she would no longer be completely blocking the exit of the establishment. Normal people could accomplish this, even while completely preoccupied with their outerwear.
I cooled my heels for I’m going to say another 60 seconds.
Finally she spins her entire torso toward me (as you do when sporting a hood) and flashes a smile. She exits the door and holds it open for me.