An observation at the coffee shop
What this has to do with my writing I don’t know other than one of my favorite places to write is a coffeeshop – despite the buzz of activity going on around I find it a soothing enviroment where I can concentrate (plus there is no “Mom…Mom…Mom…”). But I digress…
I went to my favorite coffee shop, Coffeesmiths, to get something to soothe my basketball wounds (did I mention every muscle is on fire?). Since the store moved, I now frequent the kiosk drivethru on First Avenue next to Taco Bell. As normal, I drove up to the window, waited my turn, checked my phone, checked into FourSquare and quickly message-chated with my husband. The barista is the normal guy I see there every afternoon I stop by. We chatted – mentioned my sorrow about the White Zombie being gone, he assured me they still had it and offered to make me one – I told him I needed something a little stronger and ordered a large chocolate candy cane cooler (Coffeesmith’s version of a Frappicino). I zoned for a bit then turned to watch.
As many well know, I have a little bit of a coffee shop addiction (I can hear the laughter now). I have met a lot of baristas in that time and gotten to know a few – hey, even one of my best friends was once a barista. No one compared to this guy. He took so much care preparing the perfect drink – it was a art form. Watching this guy at work was like watching an artist working on a creation. I was in awe. And it tastes wonderful.
I wanted to tip him an extra buck for his work (I try to tip well at Coffeesmiths – it is my thank you to them for giving me my first book reading). I figured I’d get in trouble if I did. But I will be back…maybe for that White Zombie next time.