I sit down to write
about yesterday's coffee adventure, ironically, at a coffee shop.
I run out of coffee, and put off getting some by sleeping in
then going out for a cup at a place that gives free refills. After that, I go to the
store and shop for coffee for such a long time need to take a bathroom break.
I continue shopping at the store for a coffee that is competitively priced and
locally roasted. The best deal I find is from a roaster that s not far
from the store itself. I put down the bag. And decide to jut walk to the roaster
instead. It is in the direction that I am going anyway. I think I will get
fresher coffee there. I think that I will get a better deal. I think that I
will have something to do for the second part of my day. I leave the store buying nothing.
If there is password
protected wifi at the coffee shop you're are at do you ask the barista or a fellow
patron for the password? I try Yelp.
I walk towards the coffee roaster, zigzagging my way to street it's on. On the way I see a boarded
up house, a child running next to a father figure on a bike, and two
boxes filled with shoe insoles. Someone walks uncomfortably close behind me for
a short time. I pass a bar I've been to once. I pass an erotic shop.
A man jaywalks from the other side of the street, and, when I look where he
came from I see the name of the coffee roaster on a sign above a door. I thought the roaster was on the side of the street I was on. Apparently I'm wrong. I, too, decide to jaywalk this somewhat
busy street.
If you get tattoos on
your feet, would you ever wear socks? I wouldn't.
Once I'm on the other side of the street the sign is not as
apparent. I am too close and
cannot read it. And I walk right passed the coffee shop. I turn around and
stand in front of the open door. It smells like cigarettes and not roasted coffee. There is music coming from within. Live music. And
singing. There are people gathered around a guitar player. It doesn't make any
sense. It is early in the afternoon, and during the week. And that's when I notice that everyone in
the coffee shop is mentally retarded. They don't pay much attention to me. Even
the woman at the counter acknowledge me standing half in, half out of the shop. I look at the counter and don't see any bags of roasted
coffee beans for sale. I've already had free refills. I don't want to drink
coffee here. I am scared. I leave.
If your girlfriend is
coughing and blowing her noses in a napkin, would you allow her to feed you the bran
muffin she insisted on buying and hand feeding you? Yeah, me neither.
I walk down the busy street, the direction I came from, to the light and the
cross walk, to cross the street appropriately before heading home without
coffee. I walk past a housing service, an industrial store for dolly wheels, an
extreme outdoor gear shop, and an Irish sports bar with Looney Toons on the
window.
The girl with the bran
muffin mentions that she misses stripping. I can't help but sneak a peak at her and the guy she's with.
Across the street I see the same name of coffee from the
store and coffee shop. It is the roaster. And I am on the wrong side of the
busy street. The cross walk is down a ways. I will pass the roaster before I
cross the. I don't go back.
The couple gets up to leave, but not before talking about her meeting his parents. I try branmuffin for the wifi password. When that doesn't work, I type stripper.