In a niche coffee shop in Vienna, I fit right in, wearing my favorite sweatshirt with the watercolor fish and some orange converse sneakers, the ones owned by every self-proclaimed “Indie Kid” I’d ever met. I plugged my half-alive phone into the wall, sipped on a honey lavender latte and began politely eavesdropping on the two 20-somethings to my left, C.P. and Eric (or something like that).
They were seated at some bar stools along a wall happily adorned with vibrant records of Bob Marley and Joan Jett and Culture Club and Traffic. They were wearing outfits that oozed with post-legal-drinking-age angst — C.P. in an oversized sweatshirt and some dad sneakers and Eric in a green Yankees hat and vintage bomber jacket. They looked cool, sure of themselves, but also humble as a box of crayons (because crayons can be humble, can’t they?).
They looked like the type of kids who rode bikes around the neighborhood in packs over the summer “Stranger Things” style or high-tailed it out of class every day right as the bell rang for dismissal (then hiked to their beat-up 2005 Mazda 3’s to smoke a much-needed joint … or 2 … or 3). They were cool; they were older; they were spending a Tuesday night over winter break in a niche coffee shop in Vienna (and they fit right in).
Their conversation was full of “strip mall talk,” the type of conversation you have in the Chick-fil-A drive-thru with hometown friends, discussing your most recent situationship or the avant-garde movie you want to watch later that night.
It was also full of “glittery, cosmic chatter,” the type of conversation you have while stargazing in some random field in the middle of the night, discussing big-picture post-grad plans or the profound philosophical differences between MILF Manor and Love Island (which are cinematic masterpieces, obviously).
But really, C.P. and Eric’s conversation was just as rooted in the “now” as it was rooted in “10-years-from-now.” Somehow, they jumped from high school nostalgia to the present woes of being a 20-something to the Rest of their Lives with such ease.
They discussed their red flags — from being a Slytherin to disliking Popeye’s French Fries (fair). They laughed about the time C.P. got pulled over by a cop for speeding in the high school parking lot, and the time Eric partied with a random 30-year-old frat star (also fair). They made fun of each other: C.P. poked fun at Eric for being “the golden child” in high school, and Eric poked fun at C.P. for having a deep disdain for Greek Life. They talked about their futures, when C.P. gets her MBA ,and Eric graduates from Virginia Tech in May. They talked about the friends they’ll visit in New York City, and the friends who are getting married in August. They talked “grand scheme.” They talked pregaming their kids’ soccer games (when they have kids … if they have kids). They talked meeting their future spouses (is it tacky to get a prenup if you’re not a celebrity?). They talked everything here and now and everything far, far away.
And I realized, much like them, I am thinking both big picture and small. I’m living for study dates in LaFun and runs around the lake and Friday nights, but I’m also living for a good job, a husband, a life. I too am on the cusp of the Rest of my Life.
And in my “glittery, cosmic chatter” in North Dining Hall well after closing, I find myself talking to friends more and more about where we might end up, the jobs we might have, the families we might build.
So while C.P. was telling Eric, “22’s getting kinda old. Am I old?” I couldn’t even fathom the year 20 (still can’t), but I could grasp C.P.’s fear of getting older. And while Eric discussed law school and investment banking in New York City, I couldn’t even fathom a summer internship, but I could see my own fear in his anxieties.
And while I’m younger than them, a part of me just wanted to say, “Chill out guys, don’t worry. We’re all just swimming in the trivial wonders of life, the things we discuss in strip malls! We’re all just caught up in a future that is unknown and endless and cosmic — and a present that is chaotic and ridiculous and filled with so much meaning (probably)! We’re the youngest we’ll ever be and probably the most lost, but isn’t it fun?”
A part of me wishes I had the guts to expose myself as an eavesdropper and say that to their faces (it would’ve been funny, right?). But really, I felt at home there, in a niche coffee shop in Vienna, couched between C.P. and Eric on my left and a loud, ranting high schooler on my right (who was dramatic and annoying and a lot like me, only brattier). And it was in that northern Virginia coffeehouse that C.P. and Eric shared a beautiful, human conversation, one I’m sure they weren’t expecting some girl to write about in her Observer column, but here we are. And while I’m still not totally convinced their names were C.P. and Eric, I want to let them know that in a niche coffee shop in Vienna, they fit right in.
Kate Casper (aka, Casper, Underdog or Jasmine) is from Northern Virginia, currently residing in Breen-Phillips Hall. She strives to be the best waste of your time. You can contact her at kcasper@nd.edu.
