All coffee houses are not the same

I am in a new town workin' for the Man. It gets worse. I am two hours west of my love and two hours west of my home. I know, horrible. So, my first move is obviously to run up my bill and to pour passion into the phone. But the next moment, I need to find a coffee house to plunk down in each morning and get my happy groove workin'.

I am older and a bit wiser (no really) and so I have cruised the core of the city's streets. Streets named First, Cherry, and Parsons. And I found coffee. But the places had no soul beyond the friendly staff. A Kaldi's. eh. A gush darned Bread Co. eh. Lakota Coffee. better but eh. Something intangible is missing.

Side note: I had a famous person run-in during my coffee culling. As I waited on my Americano, I looked up to see another young(er) person in the place. Trust me, we were young in here. The place was filled with, basically, dead people: more wrinkles than a walnut. And hell! if this guy wasn't, "Mornin' Coach". Coach Gary Pinkle. He looks at me. He winces slightly and looks away with a bored mug. He says, "Piss off Meyer. Take a lap." True story.

So anyway, those places weren't workin'. But there was this one place, on a side street, attached to a ma/pa movie rental place with hip posters for indie films you know will break your heart and make you think you too can shoot films of importance. Like you have something important to say.

This place is cool. There's kid-art on the wall. Good stuff. Makes me pause and think, "No freakin' way; the parent did this one." The staff is friendly but centered. They are in a place of happy that goes beyond job-happy. They like what they do. They are okay with early rises to greet frumpy, tired people who flow in and out all morning. People who say, "Good morning" even though it is 11am and they themselves have been awake for seven hours already.

My chocolate croissant is a delight. It just came out of the oven: bitter sweet heaven in my mouth with a butter flake crunch smoothness. A cinnamon roll that is not the size of a softball, not gooey drippy, not a hunk of spice. Just darned good.

And I can sit outside as summer recedes into fall and watch this college town wake up. See and smile at bikes, commuters!!!, rolling by, their charges sweaty but joyful inside. I can reminisce about my college life, my joys and disappointments and my deep friends now adrift in their own kids and houses and jobs.

All coffee houses are not the same. Some bring you into a place that feels just right. It transends coffee and a bite to eat. This is one. whew.