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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