An Impossible Dream
Yesterday Javert and I went to a coffeeshop around the corner from us while we waited for our laundry to dry. This particular place has been open for about a year but for some reason we'd never gone in till yesterday. It's so close to our apartment that we don't even need to cross a street to get there. It's tiny, and it's also a bar, both of which mean the annoying Starbucks set won't be tromping through disturbing me.
So probably a full third of the other patrons were working on Powerbooks (not ibooks, just Powerbooks). Javert and I were both reading, but the point is that everyone in the coffeeshop was working, presumably on school-related stuff. Except for Javert, who was reading The Bourne Supremacy.
When we first got there, I noticed that cappucinos cost $3, which seems a bit unreasonable, especially for someone who has a cappucino machine at home, which is only 30 seconds away. But I decided to splurge, since it was rainy out and since I was cold because I stupidly wore pants with holes in them. Javert chose regular coffee, because he "never has that anymore."* The cappucino was excellent; the coffee tasted like dirt slightly flavored with skim milk. (It contained neither of these items).
Anyway, usually I discover that in any coffeeshop, there's always one person who I want to murder. When I get so annoyed that I start fantasizing about torture methods, I leave. Yesterday was no exception.
The owner of the coffeeshop and his employee continually left to stand outside and smoke cigarettes. Which is fine with me, except that this meant that anytime anyone came into the shop, one or both would hurry back in to serve the customer, allowing billows of smoke to blow in the shop and around me. As I think that cigarette smoke is one of the most disgusting smells on the planet, I was less than pleased.
When they weren't smoking outside, the owner and the employee were talking loudly inside. At least 5 people came in to talk to them during the hour I was there. These people neither bought coffee (or anything) nor sat down, they simply stood around conversing LOUDLY with the owners. I know--I know coffee shops aren't libraries, although the fact that every single paying customer seemed to act that way maybe should maybe signal something. But I'm sure it must get boring to wait on people all day and I'd probably appreciate the interuption too.
But then they started talking to ME! As we know, I'm not a talkative person when strangers are involved. I happened to mention to Javert that the building across the street was creepy, and the owner heard me and proceeded to tell me everything I could ever need to know about said creepy building. When I was really thinking about how creepy the owner was in comparison, and how I would like to go back to reading about public policy. I was forced to participate in this ridiculous conversation in which I had very little interest (creepy building--alien abduction--scientology--scary Tom Cruise--sexy George Clooney).
The end point came when a friend of the owner came looking for a cellphone charger. Right away I knew this man would be a problem for me, because he appeard to have a Hitler mustache. He didn't, at least I don't think he really did. It seemed as if he just hadn't shaved that day or maybe was trying to grow a beard and the hair grows faster on that area of his lip, but still! Even an unintentional Hitler mustache is unacceptable for anyone, ever.
I have no idea why this person couldn't go home to charge his phone, or why he had to charge it RIGHT THEN, but after rummaging through their collection of chargers (who keeps a collection of cellphone chargers behind the counter of their coffeeshop??), the owner sent him to the cellphone store next door. But this store was closed, so the friend came back and proceeded to discuss his life story with the owner. I could have handled all this...except this man had the MOST ANNOYING LAUGH I'VE EVER HEARD, EVER! Almost anything anyone said elicited this series of short, loud barks that made me want to ram hot espresso grounds down his throat. Just thinking about it makes me angry and annoyed.
The laundry had finished by this point, so we left and I ranted about the annoying laugh for the short walk home. Of course mild-mannered Javert hadn't noticed the laugh or the mustache (how is this possible??) but allowed me to complain nevertheless.
The thing is, I'm sure I'll go back to this coffeeshop. And I feel really mean and petty even complaining about these things. The poor guy can't control how his facial hair grows or that he finds everything ever spoken to be hilarious. And the coffeeshop owners aren't horrible people, they're just bored and addicted to nicotine. Sure, they seemed crazy, but at least they weren't mean (like some other coffeeshop employees around here). And I need to try to be more accomodating of crazy people, seeing as I live in Crazy Capital, USA.
It's just that one time, I'd like to go to a coffeeshop and not have to fend off weirdos. I'd like to sit in peace, either privately conversing with my companion, reading, or knitting, without having to dodge celebrities or neighbors/servers, without being told to leave since I've finished eating (but not drinking (that's another story for another post)), without some guy trying to pick me up by asking me what I'm knitting, and without being interrupted by Hitler-look-alikes or paranoid alien-abduction victims.
Basically the only place I can accomplish this is right inside my own apartment, which makes me happy I have my own espresso machine but at the same time makes me extremely worried that I'll emerge in 20 years with a few cats in tow, wondering why people are giving me funny looks on the street.
*spoiled brat! Although who am I to complain, since I paid $3 for something I can get for free?
So probably a full third of the other patrons were working on Powerbooks (not ibooks, just Powerbooks). Javert and I were both reading, but the point is that everyone in the coffeeshop was working, presumably on school-related stuff. Except for Javert, who was reading The Bourne Supremacy.
When we first got there, I noticed that cappucinos cost $3, which seems a bit unreasonable, especially for someone who has a cappucino machine at home, which is only 30 seconds away. But I decided to splurge, since it was rainy out and since I was cold because I stupidly wore pants with holes in them. Javert chose regular coffee, because he "never has that anymore."* The cappucino was excellent; the coffee tasted like dirt slightly flavored with skim milk. (It contained neither of these items).
Anyway, usually I discover that in any coffeeshop, there's always one person who I want to murder. When I get so annoyed that I start fantasizing about torture methods, I leave. Yesterday was no exception.
The owner of the coffeeshop and his employee continually left to stand outside and smoke cigarettes. Which is fine with me, except that this meant that anytime anyone came into the shop, one or both would hurry back in to serve the customer, allowing billows of smoke to blow in the shop and around me. As I think that cigarette smoke is one of the most disgusting smells on the planet, I was less than pleased.
When they weren't smoking outside, the owner and the employee were talking loudly inside. At least 5 people came in to talk to them during the hour I was there. These people neither bought coffee (or anything) nor sat down, they simply stood around conversing LOUDLY with the owners. I know--I know coffee shops aren't libraries, although the fact that every single paying customer seemed to act that way maybe should maybe signal something. But I'm sure it must get boring to wait on people all day and I'd probably appreciate the interuption too.
But then they started talking to ME! As we know, I'm not a talkative person when strangers are involved. I happened to mention to Javert that the building across the street was creepy, and the owner heard me and proceeded to tell me everything I could ever need to know about said creepy building. When I was really thinking about how creepy the owner was in comparison, and how I would like to go back to reading about public policy. I was forced to participate in this ridiculous conversation in which I had very little interest (creepy building--alien abduction--scientology--scary Tom Cruise--sexy George Clooney).
The end point came when a friend of the owner came looking for a cellphone charger. Right away I knew this man would be a problem for me, because he appeard to have a Hitler mustache. He didn't, at least I don't think he really did. It seemed as if he just hadn't shaved that day or maybe was trying to grow a beard and the hair grows faster on that area of his lip, but still! Even an unintentional Hitler mustache is unacceptable for anyone, ever.
I have no idea why this person couldn't go home to charge his phone, or why he had to charge it RIGHT THEN, but after rummaging through their collection of chargers (who keeps a collection of cellphone chargers behind the counter of their coffeeshop??), the owner sent him to the cellphone store next door. But this store was closed, so the friend came back and proceeded to discuss his life story with the owner. I could have handled all this...except this man had the MOST ANNOYING LAUGH I'VE EVER HEARD, EVER! Almost anything anyone said elicited this series of short, loud barks that made me want to ram hot espresso grounds down his throat. Just thinking about it makes me angry and annoyed.
The laundry had finished by this point, so we left and I ranted about the annoying laugh for the short walk home. Of course mild-mannered Javert hadn't noticed the laugh or the mustache (how is this possible??) but allowed me to complain nevertheless.
The thing is, I'm sure I'll go back to this coffeeshop. And I feel really mean and petty even complaining about these things. The poor guy can't control how his facial hair grows or that he finds everything ever spoken to be hilarious. And the coffeeshop owners aren't horrible people, they're just bored and addicted to nicotine. Sure, they seemed crazy, but at least they weren't mean (like some other coffeeshop employees around here). And I need to try to be more accomodating of crazy people, seeing as I live in Crazy Capital, USA.
It's just that one time, I'd like to go to a coffeeshop and not have to fend off weirdos. I'd like to sit in peace, either privately conversing with my companion, reading, or knitting, without having to dodge celebrities or neighbors/servers, without being told to leave since I've finished eating (but not drinking (that's another story for another post)), without some guy trying to pick me up by asking me what I'm knitting, and without being interrupted by Hitler-look-alikes or paranoid alien-abduction victims.
Basically the only place I can accomplish this is right inside my own apartment, which makes me happy I have my own espresso machine but at the same time makes me extremely worried that I'll emerge in 20 years with a few cats in tow, wondering why people are giving me funny looks on the street.
*spoiled brat! Although who am I to complain, since I paid $3 for something I can get for free?
posted by Emil at 1:52 PM
2 Comments:
what a great post! i still love that coffee shop, if it's the one i'm thinking of. i've also found that the other coffee shop in your 'hood is a much better place to study, and it has perfect deep comfy couches in quiet corners. you should ask kelly to tell you about her embarassing incidents in the coffee shop (inapropriate questions from the owner in front of new girlfriends, etc).
I don't think you've been to this one. It's right around the corner, as in I don't cross any streets. The other coffeeshop you mention is great, but farther away, and requires an uphill walk on the way back, and frankly I'm way too lazy for that.
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