I discovered a new café this morning. Discovered it like Columbus discovered America. (Clearly it was up and running just fine before I showed up.) But I decided not to thrust the volumefreak flag down in the middle of the place and claim it as my own. I bought a coffee and picked a table in the back corner, leaving the other customers to enjoy their breakfast. If they’re still there tomorrow, I may try to convert them to good music, but it’s for the benefit of these savages and will only make the café more civilized.
I had a dream last night about Dunkin Donuts coffee. Yes, my friends, I live in the coffee capital of the United States and I had a sultry, vivid nightvision about the Northeast’s equivalent of Jack-in-the-Box brew. It’s partially Ruby’s fault. She sent me a Happy Spring card, saying spring reminded her of me -- the biggest compliment I’ve ever been awarded. The card got me talking about spring in Cambridge, and Ruby and me in the Hahvid Squizz… trips to Dunkin’ Donuts where I would buy a vat of iced hazelnut coffee with cream, the spring elixir, with the perfect ratio of ice to beverage (the ice should never be melted before you've finished your drink). I have to admit, friends aside, it is what I miss most about New England. So last night’s dream was not unwarranted, though it makes my cup of Seattle’s Best this morning pale in comparison.
There is a joint on Aurora that caught me in its cruel joke once last year. Like a weary desert traveler who sees waves of turquoise water on the horizon, I saw the familiar pink and orange logo, the word “donut” in Arial font, and pulled expectantly into the parking lot. When the mirage stabilized, I saw the word “Dunkin’” had been substituted with “Aurora” – same color, same logo. My heart sank. Still in denial, I pushed through the front doors and ordered an iced hazelnut. “We don’t have iced. I can pour some of this over ice if you like?” offered the counterperson graciously, holding up a pot of Acme Industrial Strength Food Service Coffee. I swear – the coffee was gray. It would be like going to the dealer for a black and chrome Mercedes and having the salesman say, “Oh sorry – we don’t have any in stock. Though I’ve got this fantastic pink ‘86 Ford Fiesta if you’d like. I’ll even throw in the palm tree air freshener.”
Please just look at these pictures and you’ll understand my pain. This site rules and it makes me feel validated in what sounds like a strange rant. I am apparently not the only one.
Speaking of rant, I’ve got a few words for Trader Joe’s. My feelings were recently echoed in the Best of Craigslist, drawn to my attention by the boy after he listened to my venting on Sunday post-trip to TJ’s for some pizza dough. (Sorry, Mon Frere.) But I’m in a good mood this morning and I’d feel inappropriate dragging down this post with not just one, but two retail rants. I’ll save it for tomorrow.
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