Norris doctors philosophy. (forgetthewhale) wrote in mnhttnprjct, @ 2010-04-11 22:39:00 |
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Norris did not exactly feel in touch with his freshmen classes. Perhaps it was the groans, death glares, and such when he handed back their midterms. Maybe it was that he had had a family, and he could see his own son being one of those freshmen (hopefully) in the future. Or maybe it was that today he was thirty-five. Thirty-five, he couldn't even imagine such an age and it reminded him of all the happier birthdays that he had. Today, certainly, was not meant to be a happy birthday. He felt tired, frustrated, and he really couldn't stand the sight of his fellow professors -- as he shuffled into his closet like office. They might offer elderly advice about how he would eventually get out of teaching western civilization. He'd eventually get tenure. Yes, of course, but -- well, Norris was not prone to childish fits but he did have a rather fondness for avoiding difficult situations and wallowing in his own frustrations, alone. So it was that Norris found himself crowded into a little midtown coffee shop between the loud earbuds of what appeared to be a high school student (he really couldn't tell anymore what high school students looked like) and the even louder shouts of a preteen girl into her iHolo. He thought that perhaps only he could see the horror in this situation and found himself wanting to awkwardly shift further back in line so that he might avoid both of these coffee-deprived catastrophes. Instead, he counted the keys in the pockets of his long tan coat and considered abstractly the ways a tea might soothe his present frustrations while he waited for someone at the counter to help him. Parting with Lindsay over the gentle closing of a car door on 50th, Naomi threw her friend a little wave and a pathetic look that said something like, "We'll figure it out," and watched the tailpipe emit little puffs of dust as it submerged itself into the sea of blue, red, and black. And then she was alone once more, tugging at the knot that tightened the belt of her green and blue tweed and surveying the waves of people swirling around her. She felt like the tiny western ant that she was, trapped in the center of swarming, giant ant hill of the east. The streets of New York made her dizzy, which was precisely why she preferred to spend as little time upon them as was necessary. From apartment to hospital and back again. Today was different, however, and as she left the Building American Families main office in Midtown, and sent Lindsay on her way to filming, Naomi found herself immobile on the street corner, unsure if she should hail a taxi, take the subway, or seek out some sort of respite from the March breeze before continuing to brave the wide world of New York City. And so it was that the governor's widow found herself in a small coffee shop, standing in line among the rabble, behind some prepubescent loudmouth with her iHolo set to "jabber." At the onset of a headache, Naomi pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and waited, listening to the sounds of the orders being placed ahead of her, the jabbering of the girl, and the incessant jangling of someone's keys. Turning her eyes upward and over the visor her knuckles had made before her eyes, she noted the clean, tan coat of the gentleman who was emitting the key sound and smirked. "Hey, Ph.D." she called over the little loudmouth between them, dropping her hand to rest on her purse and folding the other arm over her chest. "What brings you out of the books today?" Norris was tracing the shape of what was probably the key to his flat when he heard someone call out to him. Dropping the key but keeping his hands hidden within his pockets, Norris looked over the head of the jabbering preteen to see one of those older women from his blog. What had her name been? It had never seemed to matter since they often simply referred to each other by their degree titles. "Hello, M.D." he said rather cheerfully over the head of the girl between them. "I thought I might escape the educated masses for a bit of tea." At this moment, one of the workers at the counter called for the next in line and, almost out of pure chivalry, Norris allowed the annoying girl to pass so that he could stand in line closer to Naomi. "And you? How are you today?" Norris acted as though this sort of conversation were quite typical for him, even though he rarely left his office for social chatting between book writing and grading. Still, he had a certain sociable air about him underlying all of the quirky bookishness and, when he periodically fidgeted with his hands in his pockets or looked at his shoes, he might have passed it off as a polite act rather than a nervous habit. The girl in front of her jumped ahead without so much as a thanks, shouting, "Hang on a sec!" into her iHolo and dropping it out of the way as she made her order over the counter. Naomi was eying the board overhead, scanning the list of flavors scrawled out in fluorescent chalks, when she said, "Oh, you know," without looking at the man (Dr...of history? Was it? Dr...Something.), "just another day." Chocolate Pizzazz, or Turtle Trip? Just another day visiting the adoption agency, but she couldn't just drop that into casual conversation. "Do you come here often?" she added, finally dropping her gaze to meet his, as she unsnapped her purse and felt over the edges of keys and makeup and scraps of paper for her wallet. "What's good?" Norris turned his gaze to the board overhead. All of the fancy flavours overwhelmed him. Despite this being his usual shop of choice, he'd never quite gotten used to triple decker chocolate lattes or extra sweet pomegranate tea. "Well, they have a nice selection of Moroccon mint tea, and the usual breakfast tea, and if you're more interested in coffee..." Norris paused. He'd never been fond of coffee. It reminded him of those old coffee commercials with the little nuclear families all sitting around the breakfast table and well... "They have all the usual varieties -- cappucinos, lattes... Actually, I've never tried it before, but I'm sure anything called 'Triple Decker Chocolate Delight' must be decent... If you like sweet things?" It was hopeless. Norris knew absolutely nothing about coffee except the sort that he'd had in Paris and that would certainly not appeal to Naomi. His lack of knowledge was perhaps further emphasized when he took a step forward and ordered a rather large Moroccan mint tea. Then, just as he was about to pay, he hesitated and looked back at Naomi. "Could I get you anything?" Moroccan mint tea? Naomi had never even heard of such a thing, and she had certainly never considered ordering it before. It sounded quite exotic, the sort of thing Bill would never have approved of, and...well, Naomi did like to fancy herself something of the adventurous kind in the realm of new foods and drinks. But, of course, fancy as she might, life-long food allergies had generally prohibited much of what might have become youthful experimentation, and a certain, more recent, aversion to anything that sounded as exotic as Moroccan tea prohibited her from straying too far from her straight, narrow, and uncaffeinated path just now. Nevermind where coffee was often said to be grown, or where and how companies were often said to get their beans. Nevermind, all that; at least it wasn't called Moroccan Coffee. Right? That was just it. She needed coffee, and something sweet to liven up her otherwise gray-washed day. Triple Decker Chocolate Delight. Now, that did sound quite delightful, if perhaps a bit-- "Oh!" Naomi shook herself, taken by surprise, as her companion turned back toward her with the offer. "Oh... Uh, you really don't--" but then thinking better of the patience of the long line behind her, "--uh, just...just a small coffee. I guess. Thank you." Her expression turned to one of pleasant surprise. "I owe you one." A plain coffee seemed terribly dull to Norris, but he didn't argue. The line behind them seemed to be growing impatient, and he didn't want to end up in one of those riots, which he'd read about on the blogs and news. Though, to think of it, a coffee riot seemed rather over the top. So, Norris ordered the plain coffee and handed over a bit of money. He'd have to offer a more adventurous drink at a later date. If there was such one, of course. "It's only that decaffeinated people seem rather riotous... It's nothing really...," he said as he passed the coffee over to her. "Though you might try something chocolatey next time. It's not deadly." Stepping out of the direct path of the line, he looked around for a place to sit. Being taller than half the people there certainly had its advantages, and he noticed a small table near the window. He didn't really know whether to invite Naomi to sit with him, or not, but he also didn't want the table to be taken in a moment of indecision. Finally, he decided that he might as well offer and, if the table were taken in the process, he could just head back to his office. And grade papers. The joy. "Did you want to sit down? Or did you..." Not wanting to sound as if he normally frequented coffee shops and invited older women to sit with him, assuming she was older than him, he added, "I understand if... I have papers to mark." Taking the coffee between her hands, Naomi nodded thanks and took a short sip of the unsweetened beverage. Too hot to swallow, she held the liquid uncomfortably in her mouth for a few terribly long moments, while it burned holes in her taste buds. The chaos of the crowded cafe went on around them, as Naomi held her breath and the pair stood in frozen indecision and burning hot coffee for just a second longer than was natural. "I'm not in any hurry," she finally said in a strained voice, swallowing hard. She hoped her companion wasn't offended by the tightness in her voice, which had been caused by the hot coffee burning her throat, and not by any discomfort with the invitation. Anyway, it was the truth; she had taken the day off from work in order to visit the agency with Lindsay (a dead end, and only further confusion, that meeting had been), and she would be going home to an empty apartment and a long afternoon of grading and, if truth be told, probably more coffee. "Unless you are," she added, sliding through the crowd toward an empty table for two anyway. In this bustling place, she thought, she had better snag what seats she could find. Whether or not the professor would stay, Naomi thought she might stay for a little while herself. Watching people was as good a pastime as any, and braving the overcrowded cafe was far better than braving the overcrowded streets. "It's a perfect spot," she smiled, as she reached the table and pulled out one of the chairs. Norris was not in any hurry, but he hesitated still before following her to the table. It was still pretty weird for him to be talking to a woman he'd met on the internet, even if - well - he'd been apart of that generation. That online friendship, dating, whatever nonsense. He'd seen the birth of Twitter (if only he'd also witnessed its death). But he followed her to the table anyhow, coat sweeping about as he walked and holding onto his hot paper cup of tea. He took the chair across from her. "It's a perfect place, really." They talked for a bit, over their respective tea and coffee, about inane simple things -- the weather maybe, or the strange people, or the advent of technology. It didn't matter much the subject. Eventually Norris caught himself looking at his watch, which even in the time of iHolos he still wore, and realizing he was late for his next class. "I've got to go... Rascals to teach." He shook his head, a brief smile crossing his face. "I should be lucky to have such a wonderful job, really." Sifting through his pockets again, Norris took out a little pad of paper and scribbled his phone number across it. "I don't know... In case you need coffee advice again." Another smile. He was less anxious now, slipping into old mannerisms, not that he had any reason to be particularly anxious around older doctors that he'd met on the internet. He stood as if to go, and then thought on it. "I'm Norris. Though I can go by exotic tea drinker, if you'd like." He tried not to look as if he were about to laugh as he said that, though he might have if he'd known about Naomi's strangely organized way of programming people into her phone. “Naomi,” she responded with a slight, embarrassed laugh, realizing they hadn’t formally exchanged names. “Thanks. I’ll send you my number, and if I run into any tea-related decisions today, I’ll be sure to give you a buzz.” After they bid a final farewell, Naomi watched the professor’s coat retreating through the busy throng of coffee-goers. She sighed, shook the smile off her face, and tapped the figures on the little scrap of paper into her iHolo. “Dr. of Philosophical Tea,” her fingers added under "contact name," and then she reached for her straight, black coffee and took a satisfied sip. |