Coffee Shop Adventures
Day 1:
It was my second day in the beautiful city of Los Angeles. A few friends and I decided it was high time for a vacation and we’d been planning this trip for a little over five months. The first day we arrived, I’d noticed a quaint little coffee shop on the way to our vacation home and stored it in the back of my mind for another day.
I was a sucker for little coffee shops. Though, you’d never know it. I lived moment to moment; always moving, always busy. There were moments, little ones, that I’d find myself in less popular coffee shops. These were the moments I truly enjoyed. People watching had become one of my favorite pastimes and although I could easily share this joy with others, I found it more interesting when done alone.
I’d left the group back at the house, stating that I was going to take a walk around the neighborhood and get acquainted with our surroundings. Truthfully, I just wanted to be alone so I could check out that coffee shop a few blocks away. After bidding them goodbye, with promises of returning soon and keeping my phone on, I left the house and took off on foot.
Ten minutes and a lot of internal excitement later, I pulled open the door to what I could now call Silver Jo and stepped inside. The interior reminded me of a coffee shop I’d frequently visited in the Haight/Ashbury district in my hometown of San Francisco. The walls, a very warm brown, held pictures of unknown faces and the atmosphere seemed very personable. I could faintly hear the chatter of the patrons sitting near the counter and my eyes caught sight of a few with their laptops out, furiously working. Probably aspiring writers, I thought to myself with a small laugh as I moved forward with the line. Pulling my shoulder bag closer, I finally set eyes on the menu written in colorful chalk and made a decision just as I reached the counter.
The barista smiled at me, a warm and inviting smile, before asking the well-known question, “What can I get for you, love?”
Love? That was new. And very sweet of her.
I returned her smile, allowing my eyes to rake the menu one last time before I answered, “Caramel Mocha, please? With extra caramel and whipped cream.”
“Sure thing,” she answered, her eyes watching as her fingers pressed the keys. “That’ll be four seventy-five.”
I handed her a ten dollar bill and when she returned the change, I placed two one’s in the tip jar that sat in front of the register. I always leave a tip, no matter what. We shared another smile before I moved over to the pick-up counter and waited patiently, eyes scanning my surroundings.
I spotted a table right by the window just as my coffee was called out. Turning to the girl behind the counter, I retrieved my drink, offered a smile and made my way to the empty table. Unshouldering my bag, I sat it next to me as I made myself comfortable. This was my favorite part of being in a new place. I was able to sit with the silence and observe.
I took out a notebook, a pen, and my iPod and sat them in front of me before closing my bag again and allowing it to rest on my chair. The table was meant for two, but that didn't bother me. I loved being alone.
As I sipped my coffee, which I’d come to think was a small piece of heaven, I stared out into the streets and watched the busy city of Los Angeles do its thing. People walked up and down the streets, some making eye contact while others were completely oblivious to the patrons on this side of the glass. I saw a lady, trying desperately, to control her dog while it ran after fallen leaves blowing around on the sidewalk. That picture alone caused me to let out a chuckle.
I often sipped my coffee, as I couldn't stand the substance lukewarm, and picked up my pen, twirling it between my fingers. People watching could be such an interesting hobby. I loved to watch them and make up scenarios and stories about how or why they were doing whatever it was they were doing. My hand suddenly brought pen to paper and I began to write. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what I was writing about, it was almost as though I had no control over my actions.
The woman in front of me cleared her throat, causing me to look up and when I did, she smiled and then returned her gaze to the person sitting across from her. I wanted to smile back, but it happened so quickly, I hadn't the proper time to respond. I’d return that smile later. After all, I was anything, if not polite.
My eyes slowly made their way to the other side of the shop, where I saw a young man, maybe mid twenties, bobbing his head to whatever played in his headphones and laughing to himself. I took in his appearance; gray, low-cut Chucks, matching gray skinny jeans, a lime green, v-neck sweater with argyle print in orange and blue and beanie. I know that staring is rude, it was instilled in me as a young child, but I was immediately obsessed with his sweater. I wondered where he’d gotten it and if they still had it in stock somewhere. Storing it into the back of my mind for later, I came back to my surroundings and was met with his kind, blue eyes. He smiled and waved and I, shyly, returned the gestures. No matter what, an act of kindness will always bring out the shyness in me. I looked down at my notebook and realized I’d written my thoughts about his sweater in parenthesis with the words: LOOK ONLINE written in bold letters. Sometimes, I surprised even myself.
Checking the time on my phone, I realized that I’d been gone for almost an hour. Of course, I didn't want my friends to worry so I, reluctantly, packed up my things, finished off my coffee and rose to my feet. I made sure to return the woman’s smile before I walked back into the LA air and made my way back to the house.
That coffee shop was going to become a constant in my life, I was already sure of it.
It was my second day in the beautiful city of Los Angeles. A few friends and I decided it was high time for a vacation and we’d been planning this trip for a little over five months. The first day we arrived, I’d noticed a quaint little coffee shop on the way to our vacation home and stored it in the back of my mind for another day.
I was a sucker for little coffee shops. Though, you’d never know it. I lived moment to moment; always moving, always busy. There were moments, little ones, that I’d find myself in less popular coffee shops. These were the moments I truly enjoyed. People watching had become one of my favorite pastimes and although I could easily share this joy with others, I found it more interesting when done alone.
I’d left the group back at the house, stating that I was going to take a walk around the neighborhood and get acquainted with our surroundings. Truthfully, I just wanted to be alone so I could check out that coffee shop a few blocks away. After bidding them goodbye, with promises of returning soon and keeping my phone on, I left the house and took off on foot.
Ten minutes and a lot of internal excitement later, I pulled open the door to what I could now call Silver Jo and stepped inside. The interior reminded me of a coffee shop I’d frequently visited in the Haight/Ashbury district in my hometown of San Francisco. The walls, a very warm brown, held pictures of unknown faces and the atmosphere seemed very personable. I could faintly hear the chatter of the patrons sitting near the counter and my eyes caught sight of a few with their laptops out, furiously working. Probably aspiring writers, I thought to myself with a small laugh as I moved forward with the line. Pulling my shoulder bag closer, I finally set eyes on the menu written in colorful chalk and made a decision just as I reached the counter.
The barista smiled at me, a warm and inviting smile, before asking the well-known question, “What can I get for you, love?”
Love? That was new. And very sweet of her.
I returned her smile, allowing my eyes to rake the menu one last time before I answered, “Caramel Mocha, please? With extra caramel and whipped cream.”
“Sure thing,” she answered, her eyes watching as her fingers pressed the keys. “That’ll be four seventy-five.”
I handed her a ten dollar bill and when she returned the change, I placed two one’s in the tip jar that sat in front of the register. I always leave a tip, no matter what. We shared another smile before I moved over to the pick-up counter and waited patiently, eyes scanning my surroundings.
I spotted a table right by the window just as my coffee was called out. Turning to the girl behind the counter, I retrieved my drink, offered a smile and made my way to the empty table. Unshouldering my bag, I sat it next to me as I made myself comfortable. This was my favorite part of being in a new place. I was able to sit with the silence and observe.
I took out a notebook, a pen, and my iPod and sat them in front of me before closing my bag again and allowing it to rest on my chair. The table was meant for two, but that didn't bother me. I loved being alone.
As I sipped my coffee, which I’d come to think was a small piece of heaven, I stared out into the streets and watched the busy city of Los Angeles do its thing. People walked up and down the streets, some making eye contact while others were completely oblivious to the patrons on this side of the glass. I saw a lady, trying desperately, to control her dog while it ran after fallen leaves blowing around on the sidewalk. That picture alone caused me to let out a chuckle.
I often sipped my coffee, as I couldn't stand the substance lukewarm, and picked up my pen, twirling it between my fingers. People watching could be such an interesting hobby. I loved to watch them and make up scenarios and stories about how or why they were doing whatever it was they were doing. My hand suddenly brought pen to paper and I began to write. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what I was writing about, it was almost as though I had no control over my actions.
The woman in front of me cleared her throat, causing me to look up and when I did, she smiled and then returned her gaze to the person sitting across from her. I wanted to smile back, but it happened so quickly, I hadn't the proper time to respond. I’d return that smile later. After all, I was anything, if not polite.
My eyes slowly made their way to the other side of the shop, where I saw a young man, maybe mid twenties, bobbing his head to whatever played in his headphones and laughing to himself. I took in his appearance; gray, low-cut Chucks, matching gray skinny jeans, a lime green, v-neck sweater with argyle print in orange and blue and beanie. I know that staring is rude, it was instilled in me as a young child, but I was immediately obsessed with his sweater. I wondered where he’d gotten it and if they still had it in stock somewhere. Storing it into the back of my mind for later, I came back to my surroundings and was met with his kind, blue eyes. He smiled and waved and I, shyly, returned the gestures. No matter what, an act of kindness will always bring out the shyness in me. I looked down at my notebook and realized I’d written my thoughts about his sweater in parenthesis with the words: LOOK ONLINE written in bold letters. Sometimes, I surprised even myself.
Checking the time on my phone, I realized that I’d been gone for almost an hour. Of course, I didn't want my friends to worry so I, reluctantly, packed up my things, finished off my coffee and rose to my feet. I made sure to return the woman’s smile before I walked back into the LA air and made my way back to the house.
That coffee shop was going to become a constant in my life, I was already sure of it.