Cafe o' Confrontation

Why would you confront someone in a cafe? I can see a good side to it. Actually, no, I'm lying. Why on earth would you pick a small independent cafe with awesome coffee, cool regulars, and friendly staff to straighten out that festering issue which has been growing like a nasty boil? Nobody wants to see that sucker max out and explode.

Seriously. What inspires the public arguer?

[enter]

"Hey Mom, let's hit that cafe in town. You know. That one with the real coffee. By the way, why do you keep clothes in your closet that you haven't worn in two years, and you're never going to wear? WHAT? When is that gonna happen, 2012?"

And the conversation goes on.

I'm not making that up. I moved across the cafe so, unfortunately, I can't fill in the rest of the scintillating dialog. If it had been in normal tones I might not even have picked up on it, but it wasn't. I presume that Middle Aged perhaps was nervous, so she was speaking louder than usual. Or, perhaps she was the estranged relative who blew back into town to "set everything right". Whatever the case, she spoke in rather shrill tones and evidently felt that it was important to be confrontational.

This is the third or fourth time that I've had the wonderful joy of sitting in someone's house while they argued. At least, I might as well have been sitting on their couch, 'cause it wouldn't have looked much different. On one hand, I suppose that a cafe is neutral ground. Neither of you have familiar surroundings to draw strength or bitterness from, so the issue might be less explosive than it would be at home. Then again, others still don't need or usually want a closer look at your infection.

If you're gonna do this, please pick a Tim Horton's to torment. At least there you will provide a bit of entertainment for the faceless masses wandering through. Over here in indy land, where survival actually depends on quality, we normally sit down for real or fun conversation, or good thinking time. If I wanted to watch a soap, I'd sit at home during the afternoon and drink while the TV puked out its irrelevant rubbish.

Pardon me. That may be a teensy bit harsh. I don't mean to be cruel, but it does speak to my intent.