May-June-2017_flipbook Revised

COFFEE

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.

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”

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