7 Deadly Sins Revision

Using my reflection, I revised my Seven Deadly Sins paper.

Seven Deadly Sins Committed at Java’s

            Sometimes I really delight in people watching. It’s one of my favorite past times. It can be interesting and slightly educational at points. However, sometimes, it really takes a toll on my hope for humanity. So, here I am, sitting just outside the entrance of Java’s, sipping on something called a Chocolate Sitch. I’m not quite sure what it is, but it’s delicious and that’s all that really concerns me. It’s about 9:30 on a Thursday night, so the place is bustling, people walking in and out the door, up and down the sidewalk in the warm summer air. I can see most of the café through the glass front, except for the counter and the unfortunate people working behind it, which is clouded by a mob of customers. I catch a glimpse of a man with thick glasses and jet black hair on his head and his chin wearing a light tan hoodie. He stands towards the back of the crowd, farthest from the counter, with a scowl twisting his face. He taps his toes impatiently. Another younger man holding a latte attempts to squeeze by the impatient man. He fails. Miserably. The latte spills all down the impatient man’s hoodie. The now latte-coated man whips around in a rage.

“What the hell?! What’s your problem?!” He snarls at the unfortunate offender, his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Man, I am really sorry! So sorry!” The younger man looks around for a solution to the mess.

“This is my favorite hoodie, you jerk! What’s wrong with you? ”

“I dunno! I’m sorry! I thought there was room-, “ Cutting himself off, he quickly grabs some napkins out of the holder and attempts to wipe off the angry man’s hoodie, but his hand is slapped away.

“You’re just gonna make it worse, idiot!”

He throws down the napkins in defeat and walks out of the front door, breezing by my table. The angry, latte-coated man pathetically kicks the napkins on the ground and follows suit, stomping down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. I stifle a laugh.

The sky somehow seems a bit darker and the moon that much brighter. I look around at the surrounding tables. Suddenly, I notice the conversations have quieted down and some people have focused their attention behind me. Just before I turn around to look for myself, I notice a young woman take her giant cookie off of her table, wrap it in her hands, and hold it in her lap. When I finally turn, I see a hunched over man in a dark, dirty, raggedy jacket pushing a cart full of junk. His hair sticks out wildly from under a holey, gray ski cap and a scraggly, gray-streaked beard hangs from his face. He looks tired and worn, his eyes sunken into his dirty, leathery face.

            “Could you spare me some food? Or some change?” He asks each person politely, never coming to a complete stop at each table. When he reaches the woman’s table, he asks again. She hurriedly shakes her head no, tightening her grip on her cookie under the table. The man continues to push his creaky cart down the sidewalk and around the corner. Once she is sure he’s gone, she soundlessly brings the cookie up from her lap.

            “Whoa, check it out.” instructs an awed voice from the table next to me. I turn my attention away from the cookie-hoarding woman out of curiosity. The table is crowded with half a dozen guys, none of them over 20, nudging and laughing. They all stop to gawk, mouths agape, at a girl walking down the sidewalk towards the café. She appears flawless. Her face is a cream color, with high cheek bones, full lips, and bright green eyes behind long dark lashes. Her long, blonde curly hair flows behind her as she strides by in a tight pink t-shirt and fringed short shorts. She wears a cocky smirk and winks at her admirers, putting a little more swing in her step. As she walks past their table, they all turn and adjust themselves to keep their eyes on her, a few almost falling out of their chairs. I turn again to look at her, and catch sight of another table watching, only with different reactions. A group of girls, not much older than the guys at the other table, glare at the passing beauty with expressions of disgust. However, the disgust seems feigned, a disguise. I see a few of them throw glances at the table of guys, almost appearing anxious. They apparently don’t realize how much prettier they would be if they didn’t wear those faces. The distraction passes and within seconds the usual conversations resume. I stand and head into the café to throw out my now empty cup and, inevitably, purchase a cookie. The place is so packed I get caught in the throes of the crowd that’s supposed to be the line to the counter. I decide to wait a bit until it thins, taking a seat at a nearby table. Suddenly, my ears pick up on a high-pitched whining noise. I cringe involuntarily, and swing around to see a pudgy lady with a puffy face squeezed into a corner booth, shouting at a rather scrawny, older-looking man towards the front of the counter mob.

            “Get me another hot chocolate, too! And an oatmeal raisin cookie!” She screeches, her multiple layers of chin jiggling unpleasantly. The man cringes too, and replies with a jerky nod. He reaches the counter, orders two drinks and reaches into the big, glass cookie jar. “Not that puny one! The big one to the left!” The lady demands upon spying his insufficient selection from her convenient vantage point. He snatches the larger one as directed and moves around to the register, removing his folded wallet from his back pocket.

            “Alright, it’s $5.40. Would you like to donate to the kidney foundation?” The pretty young woman behind the counter asks in a sticky-sweet voice. The man smirks shamelessly, revealing yellowed crooked teeth, and shakes his head, chuckling as he files through the several bills in his wallet. “What have kidneys ever done for me?” He hands her a ten, eagerly accepts his change and the hot chocolates, and heads for the unfortunate booth barely containing the obnoxious woman. He pauses at an abandoned table with a tip waiting on it. Without much attempt at being inconspicuous, he snatches up the few bills and hastily continues on his path.

            I’ve suddenly lost my desire for chocolate chip, and push my way back out the door, taking a right. As I make another right into the alley way to the garage, I’m caught off guard by the sound of a sharp laugh. I look up to see a lanky, bald man standing next to a neon green Schwinn Cruiser with two girls I recognize from the table near mine.

“Good luck finding one like this! It’s absolutely unparalleled. I had it custom built, chose all the parts myself so I know they’re the best. They wanted three-hundred, but of course, I talked it down to half that.” The man boasts, the light on the building wall reflecting off his head. The girls nod like bobble-heads on the dashboard of a dune buggy. “I really didn’t think it was possible for me to ride any faster than I already do, but I made it happen with this baby.” He winks and rubs an imaginary smudge off the bike’s frame. Suppressing the urge to vomit, I swiftly dodge around the three people and walk briskly to the end of the alley. As I reach the street at the end and feel the comforting breeze catch my hair again, I decide tonight wasn’t a great night for people watching. I’ll try Monday next week.

I actually feel alot better about this expanded draft. I think the dialogue I added in the latte incident really did emphasize the mood and emotions of that example of wrath. I found that expanding my descriptions in even minor ways throughout the paper, such as I did with the pudgy lady and her man in the example of gluttony and greed, can really make it seem more tangible and relatable. It really did make me feel better. I found that starting a new paragraph for my quote "The sky somehow seems a bit darker and the moon that much brighter" sort of helped in the transition as well. I've become sort of proud of my this piece.