What is the sound of 100 years sucking face?

I have a theory that if you stay in any public space long enough, some sort of crazy, messed-up stuff will happen. I aim to prove that. Because as a rule, people do not know how to behave themselves in public anymore. You KNOW THAT IS THE TRUTH.

I'm sitting in the exact spot where I witnessed this episode go down. Well, I'm in the spot where THEY were. So obviously, after the adventures of tonight, I truly believe that this is either a cursed/blessed (take your pick on your point of view) spot.

I'm tap-tapping away, thinking about the merits of writing about Mr. Big Shot "I Told The Geek Squad What To Do" with my computer. Dude. They took your money. Of course they listened to you. They listen to anyone dumb enough to bring their computer to Geek Squad. Not that they're not competent. But I'm just saying that I personally would not take a computer to Geek Squad.

And you "talking to them" does not make you an expert on hard drive repair. Nor does you testing three keyboards make you an expert on the "plastic manufacturing process" - yes his words - and how something-something - honestly, I didn't care at this point.

I was just going to bag Starbucks Drama tonight, because truthfully, I was tired, and ya'll DID get a ginormous semi-novella less than 24 hours ago.

And then the old people came in.

Seriously.

If you hang out in ANY public space ANYWHERE in the world for long enough, SOMEONE is going to do something worth talking about. People honestly just have ZERO concept of how to behave like intelligent, rational, decent human beings in public anymore. It is a lost art. I blame FOX News.

I'm writing something other than Starbucks Drama, because, you know, I have a real job that sometimes pays the bills.

I hear the door and then I hear an "Oh baby."

My head whips around so fast I'm shocked I didn't get whiplash. Seriously. I have a staring problem and I really don't care who know. It will probably get me killed one day. Until then, I plan to enjoy looking at people being stupid.

I'm thinking young people. I'm thinking wrong.

This is an old girl. We're talking about 60. She's got her a man her age and she's cocked her leg up over his hip, pressed his back up against the door, wrapped her arms around his head and is leaning in for the kill.

She goes in for the kill.

I look away.

I HEAR HER START TO SLURP.

Let me repeat that. I am sitting a good six feet away and I hear the physical sounds of making out from people who are old enough to be my parents, if not literally my grandparents.

I have a strong stomach, and I thought I was going to gag. I still *CANNOT* get that sound out of my head. It was a combination slurp, gargle and suck all in one.

The clench seemed to last forever. I am trying to write and I can hear them scrabbling around moaning and whatever. Like cats on a roof. I have no problem with old people. I have no problem with sex. I just don't think a Starbucks lobby is the appropriate place to be getting your Viagra-assisted mack on.

They wander over to get coffee and proceed to grope some more in front of the pastry case. They want coffee and pastry to fuel their lovemaking. I made that up - the fuel the lovemaking - although I have ZERO doubt that's what they were going to do.

They get two venti drip coffees and unspecified pastries and move over to the condiment bar for another round of PDA Olympics 2009.

I finally get a good look at their outfits.  Grandpa is typical New Jersey Guido Gramps - tan, tan, tan, with thick arm hair that's bleached out to white and a freaking gold BRACELET on his meaty wrist. His shirt is some garish yellow and green Tommy Bahama print.

Randy Granny has tight white denim pants on, with cutesy little lace-up ties on the sides. And a yellow crop-top long-sleeve shirt with a blue denim jacket over that. And wrinkles. Like elephant wrinkles. She is very tan too, which is probably where the wrinkles come from. Save your skin ladies, because YOU WILL get the wrinkles once you hit the upper decades.

So they're at the condiment bar, which is like ten feet from me, and Guido Gramps comes up behind Randy Granny and starts grinding his pelvis into her as she's doing the cream and sugar thing.

She loves it. I watch this performance. I cannot actually believe I'm seeing this, much less from these two old lovebirds.

Finally, they get tired of grinding and get down to the serious business of fixing their coffee - at which point I get something of a miniature repeat of last night's performance involving the crazy people.

• Six packets of raw sugar.
• UNSCREW the chocolate shaker and dump some into the drink.
• UNSCREW the vanilla shaker and dump some MORE sugar into the drink.
• A good helping of cream.
• and finally some milk.
• Stir briskly.
• More chocolate flakes. Because the two-thirds of America that does not have diabetes needs to get it all the more rapidly.

They're still all over each other. Petting, cooing, rubbing. RUBBING. They can't even get napkins without doing it with four hands.

Finally, they get the coffees the way they like and load the stuff up to head out the door.

They go right past me and he slips his hands back around her waist. And she starts to slip her hand I do NOT want to know where.

I can't do any more of this. Drama I can handle. Porn I cannot.

Baristas: Schlumpy Bear and Boxer Billy