Exit Music (For a Customer)
As the evening dragged on, several of us wondered aloud over our headsets once again why we were open so late on a Sunday night. Almost all of the paying customers had wandered off by nine, two hours before closing. The remaining swarm consisted mostly of jetlagged European tourists who would tend to wander about and not buy things, and of our regular denizens. Most of those were draped over our most comfortable chairs, either sleeping, staring belligerently at any who dared to approach them, or nattering to people we couldn’t see. They had made sure to mark their territory by moving their chairs from where we had left them, usually placing them in the flow of traffic. In the passive-aggressive way that seems to be becoming an American signature, they simply acted as if they were entitled to do whatever they wanted, to say whatever they wanted, and to leave as much of a mess as they could.