Previous Page  19 / 60 Next Page
Information
Show Menu
Previous Page 19 / 60 Next Page
Page Background ROUSES.COM

17

After an hour or so, the Commuters place their orders and loiter

around the espresso bar. Dressed for the office but bleary around the

eyes, the Commuters just want their dry-foam latte to kick in seven

minutes before today’s all-day staff meeting. (“On second thought,

make it a double-shot, will ya?”)

As the espresso machine goes through its usual

CLUNKclunkWHOOOOSSHHdribbble routine, they retrieve

the day’s first batch of emails, roll their eyes and feverishly start

thumb-typing on their smartphones. Once the name is called

(“

Cheryl

! Double mocha no-fat latte no foam “

Cheryl

!”), it’s time

to finish up with “best regards,” hit send and hightail it downtown.

The Conversationalists arrive and bring a wave of big-group energy

to the room.This group of regulars usually have a set meeting time

(“8:45 a.m. sharp every Thursday”); they pull a few table together

and proceed to hold good-natured court. Friends stop by and

discuss the last Saints game or the Pelicans’ impending draft picks.

They kill an hour talking about family or politics with the energy of

a TV morning show, then head off to work, waving to the baristas

with a smile and an energetic farewell.

By this time in the morning, the daily wave of semi-comatose

students has come and gone —phones up, eyes glazed, craving sugary

beverages — and the members of the Laptop Brigade take up their

positions. A bevy of self-employed folks (writers, traveling salesfolk,

financial advisors, wedding planners) scout the room for double-wide

tables, easy power-outlet access and the magical WiFi password.

On a busy weekday, the long banquette looks like an entrepreneurial

wildlife park, as a row of specialists conduct widely varied business

pursuits, separated only by coffee mugs and muffin plates. A

management consultant Skypes into the home office for a status

update, oblivious to the graphic designer’s client meeting at the next

table. The sales manager cranks away on spreadsheets, isolated by

the same industrial-strength, noise-canceling headphones as the

computer programmer a few tables down.

Sunny days attract a diverse crowd to the

semi-shaded sidewalk tables. The Last

Surviving Smokers grab a quick cig/joe

combo to kick-start the day, as the Dog

Folk try to calm their pooches for a second

as they run in for their order. The Stroller

Ladies busy themselves in the sunshine with

various baby duties (applying sunscreen on

pudgy legs, adjusting sunbonnets, doling

out Cheerios® from plastic snack boxes).

The occasional member of the Laptop

Brigade paces the sidewalk on a semi-

private business call (after the requisite

request of a nearby compatriot: “Watch my

stuff for a second?”). They pass the New

Wanderers who drag in huge suitcases to

a table, so they can write in their journals

until their Airbnb opens at noon.

Weekends are a wee bit different, with

many of the regulars switching from “office

appropriate” attire to “comfort forward”

togs — pencil skirts are replaced by yoga pants, T-shirts and shorts

pinch-hit for suits and ties. On Sunday mornings, thick newspapers

replace the phones for leisurely reading, and couples work through

the tough crosswords with no real sense of urgency. Just a perfect

place to relax and enjoy the sun on the sidewalk.

By late morning, I’m usually hyper-caffeinated, about done with my

desk work and ready to move on for the day. I pack up my laptop

and say my goodbyes to the remaining regulars. I bus my table, wave

to the busy baristas (now ramping up for the lunch rush) and hit the

pavement — happy, energized and with a whole day ahead of me.

As I leave my little window seat, I think about the power of that

place and the morning rituals that can start you off on the right

foot. My mama needed her silence and I need my clatter, and it’s

reassuring that tomorrow morning — well before sunrise — I’ll be

back to start another day.

COFFEE