diaspora at a Third Place

In community and regional development, we refer to cafes, parks, and other communal meeting places as "Third Places." A First Place is the home, a Second Place is a workplace, but Third Places constitute the areas where people meet to spend time with one another for reasons of practicality or, more often, pleasure.

Mishka's is such a Third Place, as people convene to purchase coffee or food and then disperse to tables by themselves or with others, or simply back through the door out into the world. I take a seat at one of the last remaining tables near the pastry case and proceed to observe those standing in line:

Business Man
Bohemians
New Mother's Club
Wailing Babies
Students
Man Who Smells of Curry
Bored Girl
Artsy-looking Girl
Tall Guy With Laptop
Woman Who I See Every Time I Come Here
...

There is a fascinating sense of urgency in the line; most of those waiting choose to spend their idle time casting their eyes furtively over the occupied tables. The expressions range from hopeful to disappointed, to ambivalent, as the seating opportunities are rapidly assessed. Most are so concerned with finding a table that they fail to respond to the much-repeated "Hi," of the cashier. She appears to not be a person, but merely an obstacle they must overcome before moving into the study-surface battlefield.

Why on earth would you wait to take out your wallet at the last minute? Does it come as a surprise that you do actually need to pay for your coffee?

One of the Bohemians has walked by my table four times, and I can't understand why as she only holds a plate with a slice of carrot cake. The girl sitting next to me seems to notice this too, and I wonder if we are both wondering why the Bohemian keeps passing us by. I decide she is looking for the bathroom key and move my attention to the Girl in the Flowered Dress sitting across the room.

The Girl in the Flowered Dress looks up each time the door opens. She appears to be studying, but I don't see how she can get anything done with all of her looking up. I don't think she is waiting for anyone as she is sitting at a table with another person and there is no empty seat nearby, but her eyes seem to drill into each newcomer with a fierce curiosity. Oh, now she's looking at me, oops.

The Tall Man with the Laptop is looking at me, too. I notice he is the only person in the cafe wearing close-toed shoes.

This appears to be a unique area of Diaspora as most of the people who converge at Mishka's remain stationary before they disperse. The line is the most fluid entity in the room, and as the tables remain filled, more and more people leave the line and move out of my field of vision. What is fascinating to me are the people I remember leaving who I see come back inside after a while. The girl sitting next to me actually whips out a pair of roller blades and takes off for fifteen minutes, leaving her books on the table and prompting looks of longing from incoming students.

I wonder where she's gone.