our people, our culture, our coffee

Coffee culture is dead. And so is my social life.

At least twice a week after school drop-off, I’d meet a friend or two at Starbucks. These meet-ups were arranged via late night text or a “wanna do coffee?” yelled from the car window as you cleared the drop-off line. There were a few Starbucks locations to choose from but we’d head to the Starbucks that used to be a train station. Our small caravan would make the seven-minute venture (five minutes if you made all the lights) to our favorite location and hope for parking. It was a teensy bit out of the way but I loved the architecture and the baristas always seemed like they were happy to see us. They knew your order. “Spinach feta wrap and a grande non-fat cappuccino, please.” And if they learned your name, they used it. I likened it to the Norm at Cheers scenario.

Like a proud grandparent, let me take a moment to tell you about my Starbucks. Built in 1901, this location is blessed to have most of the features associated with its train station origins. It’s a pretty cool place graced with thick molding framing both the walls and high ceilings. I don’t know if all the white subway tiling is authentic but I want it to be. I have so great memories of the many hours I spent here with friends planted on one of the train station’s original wooden benches while staring at the tremendous 12-bulbed light fixture. Side note – I never caught anyone paying attention to any of the great details this building offered, and that always bothered me. A nice building needs to be admired, folks.

This location is wedged between a bus stop and the town’s current train station so the flow of humans was always mighty and diverse. It never failed to satisfy my people-watch cravings while I chatted with my friends. (Multi-tasking FTW.) Every few minutes we were presented with a fresh batch of commuters looking for their coffee. Like us, a handful of people would sit with friends to discuss life. Others buried their face in a laptop, forgetting all about their coffees. Most weeks, I’d see a mom sharing a slice of lemon pound cake with their toddler who was simply delighted by this lemony goodness. A visit here would transform any shitty Tuesday morning into a tolerable one.

I may or may not have Instagrammed the hell out of this place.

Our meet-ups at Starbucks were valuable. They were all about the conversations, the events of the day (or lack of), and maybe someone’s new handbag you got. They were about how hot the coffee was, if it was made correctly and if they had my feta spinach egg wrap in stock. They were about considering a second cup while wondering if you had enough time left on the meter and thinking “I should really get to the office” but never making it there because you were having such a nice time. It was beautiful. It was our normal. I miss it.

Like other enjoyable things in life, everything came to an abrupt stop when the pandemic hit. A solid “you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here” vibe was firmly established when shit started to disappear or get piled in a corner. The condiment bar was cleared. (No milk for you! ) The benches were draped with police tape and a mountain of tables and chairs took up space in the corner. As the pandemic progressed, Starbucks made the decision to only accept online orders. Jesus wept. This decision was great for the folks who only needed the coffee fix but it was a rough blow for folks who enjoyed the coffee and the atmosphere. Coffee culture, along with my social life, was put to sleep.

After months inside with most of our social events canceled, everyone wants to get back to normal. Folks have decided that consuming a meal in 30-degree weather within a plastic pod on a sidewalk is awesome because it offers them a taste of normalcy. Restaurants are slowly coming back to life. Can we revitalize our beloved coffee culture?

I’m not familiar with the specifics of this week’s pandemic guidelines but Twitter told me that restaurants and movie theaters are welcoming a limited number of patrons inside their walls. Yes! That’s…exciting. And it gives me permission to feel optimistic about the idea of a coffee meet-up. One day that wretched pile of tables and chairs will be arranged to welcome us back. Songs you’ve never heard by Suzanne Vega and Aimie Mann will serve as our soundtrack as we struggle to read the updated menu in a timely fashion. Once seated, we’ll be allowed to take up space for hours. There will be milk aplenty and we’ll laugh, be way too loud, and parking meters will expire. A decent amount of commuter traffic will flow in and out for my people-watching pleasure and moms will squeeze strollers through the door…because everyone wants the same thing — a return to a amazing coffee culture that celebrates our people, our community, and our coffee. It will be fabulous.

And I may or may not Instagram the hell out of this place when I get back. I can’t wait.

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