![]() ![]() ![]() She grew up in the South where the early morning heat carried the scent of Bermuda grass through her open window, and it followed her all the way north.Ī man walks by with a briefcase a few minutes later. Inside that to-go cup is not coffee but freshly made matcha that is almost a perfect match to the green hue of her pants. The woman is wearing green pants because it reminds her of fresh-cut grass in the summer. The only kind of science I’ve found myself to be good at. Purely fictional - guesswork, really, based on my observations. She would keep walking, and I would stay seated behind the cafe’s window, and that would be the end of it. I would have only seen a woman wearing green pants walk by with a to-go cup of coffee in hand. When I used to people-watch, I merely saw. With a window looking out on University Place and a dining room underscored by smooth jazz, there is no shortage of eye-catching people. ![]() Newsbar is no Disneyland, but it’s a magical place in its own right. I had to know the stories behind it all, even if I needed to make them up myself. Just observing the clothes, the gait, the neon-colored hair or the tattooed arm was no longer enough. But as I grew and changed, so did the parameters of my people-watching endeavors. There were families in matching shirts, young kids messily devouring a Mickey Mouse-shaped ice cream sandwich and a newlywed couple snuggled up watching the fireworks. Disneyland, the happiest place on Earth that I used to frequent, like many other Southern Californians, was the prime location for observations. People-watching has been a whimsical - albeit slightly invasive - habit I’ve had since I still had my baby teeth and believed in Santa Claus. It’s my guilty pleasure, almost a vice, rather than the pricey lattes I shouldn’t buy and the cranberry muffin that I find dangerously delicious: people-watching. My thoughts float away from the task at hand and my eyes follow suit, drifting from the Google Doc to the cafe’s other patrons. Writing essays and struggling to finish physics homework that I will never fully grasp is my primary focus, but I’m human. My only indulgence is the $7 chai and the discounted day-old baked good I get at the counter. If a professor or my mother asks, I go to my unofficially owned table to do homework and nothing else. Staking my claim like I’m a miner in the Gold Rush comes naturally to me. Taxes, fees not included for deals content.It’s not mine, but I claim it anyway - the small, wooden half-bench-half-chair table tucked in the far corner of Newsbar on University Place. is not responsible for content on external web sites. is not a booking agent, and does not charge any service fees to users of our site. ![]() If you have any questions or suggestions regarding this matter, you are welcome to contact our customer support team. The brand names, logos, images and texts are the property of these third parties and their respective owners. cannot be held responsible or liable for the accuracy, correctness, usefulness or reliability of the data. The content displayed in the Directory consists of information from third parties, among others from publicly accessible sources, or from customers, who have a presentation page in our directory. Our business directories around the world: ![]()
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