So there I was all cosy in my coffee shop writing about sex, dipping in and out of facebook, flirting a little with the guy sitting opposite me when suddenly – a bit of a commotion.
I was distracted. What kind of idiots make a noise in a coffee shop?
Armed ones, apparently.
Two men, caps pulled low, dark glasses, and guns in their hands. Smoothly, seamlessly, holding up the patrons and helping themselves to their laptops and cellphones.
What do you do when you’re in the middle of an armed robbery? Yell? Scream? Risk being shot?
Take another sip of coffee in case it’s your last?
It was so quick. They were gone within seconds, cool as cucumbers, leaving in the escape car that was outside waiting for them.
Only afterwards did panic break out. We were tearful and shaky, everyone was in shock.
I just sat there, clutching my laptop to my chest. How lucky I had been that they never made it to my table.
But what does lucky mean? In South Africa, we have this really weird thing of saying ‘ 0h my god I was robbed, thank goodness no-one was hurt.’
And then we just carry on.
But it’s crazy. It’s insane. It’s a mad way to live.
And it happens all too often.
We gulped down our cold coffees but left our eggs, sad and rubbery, lying on the tables. Slowly, we scattered, unsure how to feel and what to do.
I got home. I finished writing my story. I called a friend to tell him what had happened.
He recommended a scotch or six, a red velvet cupcake and a pedicure. Plus a blog piece about the incident.
So that is what I did. I ate two cupcakes, had a manicure as well as a pedicure and now I am writing.
Also wondering what happened to the guy I was flirting with. And feeling better already.
I shall have to go back to the coffee shop to find out.