I was getting coffee and a choc chip muffin this morning. My late week staple when things have largely started going sideways on me. A heavy set, bearded, behemoth gets out of his truck wearing a camouflage bomber jacket and sporting a Glock on his thigh. On the side of the truck is emblazoned ‘Argon security’.
He orders coffee and we stand together.
‘Would you consider yourself an “Argonaut”‘, I venture casually. He gives me a look like I’m mentally challenged. I point at the truck, ‘Argon’… as if to underscore my point.
He gives me another look that I interpret as ‘are you high?’ God I wish I was…
Maybe they’re named after the inert noble gas? Although that makes no sense to me. I feel that I’m loosing this particular battle however and that he is no mood for chit-chat. I sigh. ‘Nevermind’. I guess were not going to be discussing the modern warriors penchant for tarn-fleck over golden sheep’s wool.
He’s ordered a caramel Macchiato. I judge him… albeit silently.