Side Effects

I went to Borders today to use up some of the gift cards I received last week. I also decided to treat myself to a small soy latte at the coffee counter.

There were two baristas. The first one said, "Where did you get your nose ring?"

"Um...I don't know, I mean, I've had it forever," I said. I really was not in the mood to talk about facial piercings. I just wanted my latte and my books. I had found the Best American Travel Writing Anthology for 2007 and was itching to get home and page through it. Also purchased--Bel Canto/Ann Patchet, The Omnivore's Dilemma/Michael Pollan, and The Year of Magical Thinking/Joan Didion.

"Well," the barista continued, "I get mine at Fluid Ink, except for my navel jewelry, and my grandmother was soooo angry when I got my nose pierced. I had to try to hide it every time I saw her."

The second barista said, "My family hated it too! I get my body jewelry at blahblahblah place. I only like to wear studs in my nose. Rings just get caught on things. Except one time I snagged my nose stud on my sweater and it ripped out. That really hurt, but it wasn't as bad as the time my dog caught my hoop earring in his mouth."

I stood there, quietly, completely amazed at the unsolicited self-disclosure. Is that a side effect of too much caffeine? Should I have ordered a decaf?

The first barista said to me, "At least I got the left hand side of my nose pierced. In the olden days, prostitutes pierced their right nostril in order to identify themselves. And I also heard the the right side is the one that lesbians get." She paused, stared at my right-nostril pierced face, did the math, and then said hushedly, "Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean that you are a prostitute."

"Thanks for the coffee," I said. I didn't tip them. What the fuck.