Starbucks Drama: Mz. Monochrome cuts in line

Coffee exists as the water of life for some people. Their pursuit of the inky black nectar of the Coffea arabica forestalls all other considerations - including simple human kindness.

Picture it, Sicily, 1943: [Wait, that's not right]

I went out for lunch with friends Wednesday and we strolled over to the Starbucks for a coffee before diving back in to an afternoon of work. I held the door open for one of my co-workers and a twenty-something dives through.

She's dressed in mod "artist" fashion. There's a pair of black tights and a limp gray skirt. What is either a black sweater or a warm-up jacket is tied around the size 2 waist. Further up the tree, there's a black and white striped tank top and numerous crystals dangling into the flat bosom. A purse large enough to hold Portugal flaps at her side. The purse is gray. Clearly, she has a thing for monochrome.

And for rudeness.

I'm holding the door open for a co-worker and she plunges right in. She then executes an elbow sharp enough to knife through an NFL defensive line and slices her way to the register. My friend turns to me and says - loud enough for everyone, including Mz. Monochrome, to hear - "Did she just cut in front of me?"

Mz. Monochrome, who has already ordered a double tall skinny cinnamon dolce latte and has the Bank of America card flipped out to pay for it, turns, wrinkles her pert nose and goes "Well, I'm in a hurry. I can't wait for you."

And with that, she turns around and flounces of to the handoff bar, where she studiously ignores us until she gets her drink.

There's not really much to do with these types - unless you can hold them down and force-feed them whipped cream until they explode.