Time to escape from the escape

It's the noise that hits you first. A guttural roar that tails off into a hiss, as though an angry medieval dragon was rousing itself from sleep. The crashing of a hundred china plates and the clattering of a dozen metal jugs. The desperate shouting of long-forgotten names. And the screams of children abandoned by parents lost in their own fantasy worlds. I'd forgotten what a busy Starbucks sounded like.