Lava floor

So, tell me, what have I missed? Is it a cultural thing? Is it a new trend? Is it even a thing? I just don’t get it. LOML and I took the ferry from Horseshoe Bay to the Sunshine Coast this week. The trip usually takes about 40 minutes, which means we can sit in the Rolls-can-hardly on the vehicle deck or head up to the seating area. Even on this short hop we usually opt for the latter with a coffee, a window seat and the view. On this trip, being the peoplewatcher I am, I notice an older man sitting across the aisle from us. His feet are up on the empty seat facing him. I wonder what his mother would say if she saw him with his clodhoppers up on the furniture.

As you know, it’s monsoon season here in British Columbia. Everyone’s shoes are mucky and wet. In spite of his obviously muddy shoes, there he sat, drinking his coffee, reading a newspaper with his legs stretched out and his feet up on the furniture.

From my vantage point, I couldn’t say his feet-up thing was a cultural thing, unless his not giving a damn about the next person who might have to sit in his muddiness is cultural. He’s wearing a Tilley-style hat and vest. His footwear is a pair of sturdy boots. He looks as if he’s up for a hiking adventure. Yet dressed the way he is, I don’t think he’s into fashion trends. I conclude he’s just insensitive and feels entitled. He did, after all, pay a substantial fee to sail, and this could be the reason he puts his feet up. In my mind I can hear, “I paid good money for this seat. I’ll put my feet up if I want. There are people who get paid to clean this ship.”

Of course, this behaviour isn’t limited to the B.C. Ferries or, for that matter, to B.C. Later in the day, LOML and I scoot out of the Sechelt rain and into a bakery café for lunch. A group of younger people sit nearby, chatting and enjoying mugs of hot beverages and a communal plate of cookies. Several chairs have been purloined from other tables for the express purpose of elevating their tender hoofs. One of the women sits with her feet daintily tucked underneath her. She has, at least, removed her damp boots.

I guess that this thing might be a game. Maybe the floor under the table represents a swirling mass of lava, and their feet must never touch the floor. With the exception of one person, their feet are up off the floor.

“Lava floor,” I whisper to LOML. He shrugs, because he knows where this is going. He doesn’t think it’s a trend any more than he thinks it’s a game.

Two days later, LOML and I are scouting the outdoor shops in Vancouver and head to a café off Columbia Avenue. The café we choose is beautifully designed and decorated. Little expense has been spared in the furnishings and fittings. The staff is knowledgeable and courteous. The coffee is the best we’ve had on our trip, thus far.

Milano Café seems to attract a young, professional crowd. We are, most obviously, the outstanding exception to the demographic. Milano’s patrons share tables covered with lattes, espressos, tablets, smart phones and laptops. Not surprisingly, the game is played here too. Not only are chairs being used to protect feet from lava but, so too are the lower coffee tables.

The mom and grandma in me wants to admonish these youngsters.

“Were you raised in a barn? Get your soggy, dirty shoes off the furniture!”

But I don’t say a word. I nod to LOML, who sips his americano and asks if I’m looking forward to the hot springs in Harrison. I hear hot springs and think lava springs. I wonder if the game will play out differently there?

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca