Bonus Double-Postcard-Post

Laptop hobos. They're a thing.

Look, people: I get it. You need a place to write or draw or whatever that offers an internet connection and yet is not your bedroom, but you're not so flush with cash you can buy your own office on Michigan Avenue like those fancy-pants one-percenters with their big cigars and their monocles and their hybrid cars and their stock tickers.

But at least pretend you're a customer. Buy something. Anything. See that lady over there with the rainbow hair and the laptop so old its processor speed is measured in KB? She bought a banana for $1.10, and she's been here for six hours, but at least she bought a goddamn banana. You didn't buy anything! You just walked in, ordered a glass of ice water, then took one of our approximately four tables. And, upon finding we have no restroom, you glared at me. Buy a cookie and you can straight-up cuss me out, but buy something! 

There's a sense of expectation that goes with entering our stores. We created it, we nourished it, and from time to time it bites us in the ass. On the plus side, most of our laptop hobos are not actual hobos. Future aging liberal hippie douche I may be, but my experiences with the homeless during my time in the Coffee Mines haven't made me relish the moment any of them walk through my cafe's door.

 Hmmm. This...doesn't look Chinese. But it's a postcard and I got it in the mail. Who else would send me a postcard? And it's from New Belgium? What happened to regular Belgium? I liked regular Belgium, they were the second country sane enough to let their gays get married.

...oh.

Ohh.

I...mostly remember sending this. From the Hoptacular. I think there was this line? And I sort of, sidestepped it? There were definitely glaring faces. And I wrote it with a Sharpie. In retrospect, going to that thing on an empty stomach was a bad idea.

 See, this is what I looked like once I got home from the Hoptacular. My sample glass only held like six ounces, but we got there late and I had to make up for lost time, and I'm pretty sure six times five hundred is...a lot.

I want a sweet Uyghar hat! I may already own the best hat ever (well, not that exact one, but almost identical), but I'm always up for new and exciting headgear.

I do feel vaguely offended that the Buddha image on the front of this postcard was not actually ever seen by the person writing it. I've been lied to. I've been had. And now all of you have, too. So I'm just spreading the mendacity around like butter on toast. You're welcome.