Customers

Bitter cold.  It was good to finally get inside.  The medium dark panelling, almost Manneristic in heaviness.  Suitable for a nautical theme, suitable for a coffee shop. And cozy for a January day.  Before the storm.

Coffee shops have a flavor as distinct as the coffee they brew.  But they all have the old guard in them.  Mostly.  The new ones take a while to define themselves.  Some are environmentalists, some are the older folks with no where to hang.  They find their own space if they are regulars.  In time they become like church pews.  Territorial.

Donnie Dark was spread out among three tables interviewing a potential hire this morning.  Both were in Mark Zuckerman attire - hoodies. Jeans.  Ryan was chafing at the bit.  Clearly wanting the job.  Donnie used just about every expletive I have ever heard.  The 'f' word was his favorite.  I stopped counting at 108 uses.  That was just twenty minutes into my vanilla latte.  I wondered why I got indigestion.

The fireplace pit hosted more business types.  Suits.  They growled when I reached for the Wall Street Journal on the round table in front of them.  No smiles, no apology, no come join us. I didn't realize being a customer once meant instant ownership.  I'll try not to remember that.  I was more than happy to sit elsewhere. 

Later the Bobbsey twins filled the pit. Ladies out for the morning chat. In their pit. As I was waiting to lunch with a friend, a high top nearby was more than sufficient.  Brilliant light came streaming through the drafty window beside me.  I had nearly forgotten it was 31 degrees below the freezing point.  My eyes kept finding the burning embers in the pit.  Longing to warm there.Wondering what the coffee shop had become. Wondering if I even wanted to go back.