Saturday I spent about 13+ hours covering a film festival in my town, which meant at some point, I was forced to retreat to a local coffeehouse in order to steal precious Internet so I could write my Pulitzer-worthy stories. Actually, I began at a Panera but had to beat a trail out of there pretty quickly after I realized that after 7 p.m. on Saturdays, Paneras are unofficial hang-outs for hoards of pre-teens.
The coffeehouse I like to visit becomes a popular place for area high school/college/grad students to gather and work on homework late at night. Which is cool, considering our town’s library closes early (damn you budget cuts!). Plus, sometimes it makes me feel not like a grown-up with a full-time job, but a college student again.
Except last night, I was sitting in front of a table of girls — high school or college-aged, I can’t tell anymore — and the first thing I hear after setting down my stuff:
“I mean, then she like drowns in the ocean and it’s so stupid”
“I know, doesn’t she like decide that she loves her kids but can’t love them unless she gives up her self worth? Ugh, how stupid.”
“Yeah, now I have to make something up about why this is important.”
The last thing I need to hear after a long-ass day is one of my favorite books of all time — The Awakening, Kate Chopin — derided by girls who probably think Twilight is high literature. On nights like that, I can’t help but think so many of everyone else are just … idiots.