A good idea: Make an airport drop-off, then camp out at a coffee house to write a book review. A wrinkle: I am trapped next to a terrifying beast who keeps coughing, picking his face, and rubbing his greasy hair, refusing to let other people take the seat even after he walked away for like 10 minutes.
I don’t think you get squatting rights in a coffee shop, do you? Work or read or converse. Don’t sit around and creep people out.
UPDATE: Apparently he’s “a disabled person” with strong views about how “you can’t have greaseman cops.” I learn this through a cloud of cigarette breath and flecks of lung. Why the fuck do I go out in public?