Walk #4, Teahouse on Alberta St.

Tuesday, 1-26-10. 3.57 miles.

Job searching is hard. After a discouraging morning, I go for a walk to get out of the house and away from the computer. Plus it is sunny, and I need a refreshing new perspective. So I head up to Townshend's Alberta Street Teahouse. Entering the teahouse, I can't figure out what to do. Do I order tea at the counter? Do I sit and be waited on? The people around me all have their tea and give no clue. There are small menus, big menus, different menus on different walls. When the guy at the counter asks if he can help me, I impulsively order a bottle of kombucha. The kombucha list is right in front of me. I collect my bottle of kombucha and sit at a table reading an odd short story by Miranda July. I don't really want kombucha.

Soon after, more customers enter. A pretty woman wearing a chic puffy vest takes the table next to me, and then orders herself a milky looking tea (some sort of chai?) and a cookie. The correct protocol, I now see, it to place your order at the counter, and the staff will bring your drink to your table if it requires time to prepare. I am jealous of the woman's tea and cookie. I am jealous of her clothes and importance--she receives several phone calls that appear to be business related. I sip my strange-tasting kombucha. Next time, I resolve, I'll take as long as I like to place an order. It's not as if the laid-back counter staff cares, or is paying any attention to me whatsoever. I could stand staring at the menu for many minutes with a stoned and glazed-over expression, and they would not care.

A young woman wearing flats and dress slacks sits at a table without ordering. After a few minutes, a slender man in biking gear meets her, and says, "Shall we order some tea?" I can't tell if they are meeting on a blind date, or if he is interviewing her for a job. Most likely the latter.

I want a friend to sit and laugh with, who will share the uncertainty of how to order the tea. Maybe two friends. Four would be too many.

Sometimes getting out is refreshing; sometimes it just amplifies my anxiety.







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