Picasso and Snickers - Part 4 - The Phone Booth

The first thing Debbie noticed about the Chelsea Book Shop was the aroma. There hung in the air an intoxicating blend of old books, coffee and cinnamon.

The cinnamon incense was Brenda McCann’s idea. She thought it helped to relax the customers. Give them a sense of well-being.

The other thing Debbie noticed were the signs that read: Please Turn Off Your Cell Phones. No Excuses. And, Phone Booth In The Corner. Follow The Arrows.

When you followed the arrows you found yourself standing in front of the corner phone booth. Circa 1950. The brass plaque on the door read: Step inside. Close the door. Sit down. Relax.

“I like to think it transports people back to another time,” said Brenda.

“Excuse me?” said Debbie.

“The phone booth,” said Brenda. “I saw you staring.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” said Debbie.

”It has a soothing affect on people,” said Brenda. ”People go in with every intention of making a phone call. But once they sit, it‘s as if they‘ve forgotten why they went in to begin with. They become intoxicated with the nostalgia of it all. Even if they‘ve never seen one before. Some will sit and read. While others may decide to cat-nap for a few minutes. We’ve even had people call to ask if they could rent the booth for an hour or so. Like we were a tanning salon or something.”

”That‘s pretty funny,” said Debbie. ”It‘s like a time out chair.”

“I Hadn’t quite thought of it like that," said Brenda. “But I like it. People putting themselves in voluntary time-outs from the world. What a fun idea."

”It‘s a lovely shop,” said Debbie. ”Is Rupert around?”

“You must be Debbie,” said Brenda. “Rupert said you’d be coming in. My name's Brenda. Rupert’s wife. Coffee?”

“Thank you, no,” said Debbie. “I haven’t even started yet.”

“What better way to start than by breaking bread?” said Brenda. “C’mon. I’ll even throw in a blueberry scone. We don’t open till ten. Rupert wanted you in here early so you could get comfortable with your new surroundings and get introduced to the staff. Rupert will be here shortly. He’s suddenly been smitten with the exercise bug. He left the car home this morning and is walking the two miles to work. He’s also got us on a diet. And has me eating this orange stuff. What the heck do you call these things again?”

“Carrots?” said Debbie.

“Ah, yes,” said Brenda. “Carrots. I don’t what makes him think they’re part of any food group. They don’t taste like anything I’ve ever eaten before. Not like a fudge brownie. You bite into a fudge brownie, you know what you’re getting and there are smiles all around. You bite into a carrot and your face gets all contorted from the struggle. But I understand the old dear’s concern about our health. So carrots it is. Cheers.”

Brenda raised her carrot to Debbie’s blueberry scone and made a face as she took a tiny bite.

“Ah, here’s the staff,” said Brenda.

A young man of eighteen walked in from the back room carrying a broom.

“Debbie, this is Jason,” said Brenda. “He’ll be your guide for the next half hour or so. Me? I have to search the Web for another phone booth or two. Who’d have thought they’d be making such a come back? See you in a bit.”