Change of Shape

I changed my routine today. I made a choice that could very well change the course of history, an event so epic that I can hardly breathe waiting to see what happens next.

I tried a new coffee shop.

Its funny. I've been watching the progress of the budding business since they started noticibly working on the building since last Julyish. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what they were trying to do to the place (and from the outside it is still not completely clear). It was obvious that much love was going into the remodel, but the intentions were vague. New siding, paint, and the zen-like grooming of the patio-to-be on the west side of the building still did not betray the true intention to be. The potential seemed endless for a new business just short blocks from The Bonfire and The Goodfoot. But as time progressed, it became less clear exactly what our neighborhood was gaining. The fresh, historic-pastel green color denied any suspicions. The sign, located on the east side of the building, simply read Wm. Landauer, Groceries, Cigars and Tobacco. What did we have on our hands here?

Simply from the look of the facade, I was able to make an assumption of the vague identity of the minty, nonpareil colored building; a coffee shop. Finally, in late January, the mystery business exposed itself, and the public was allowed a full view. I, of course chose not to delve instantly in my new neighbor, but rather let the suspense ferment. I went in today, weeks later, on what I have determined is exactly the single most unlikely day for me to choose to visit a brand new would-be hangout. See, I just started a new schedule yesterday. I've been in the swing of the 7-am opening shift. I have had a highly prescribed detail everyday. Up at six, shower, out of the house by six-thirty, coffee at Cooper's by six-35 (sorry about the betrayal!) , work by seven to seven ten. Traffic on 205 is predictable, but my schedule is immobile. NOW I close on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Saturday is not an issue. But I have to open Thursday mornings, so my Wednesday turnaround represents obvious issues.

So today of all days, at the last minute, I decided that a switch up was in order. As I drove right past Wm. Landauers, intending to proceed right to my regular and familiar barista, Valerie, at Cooper's, I realized that today was the day. I whipped the corner at the next street and found a parking spot bhind a dilapidated '89 Mazda 323 hatchback. Here I was, facing a memory I had been building for a solid eight months. What was I to expert from this? Fireworks? Naked girls? Maybe the worlds best coffee, served at rock bottom prices.

I found none of these things. Instead I found a coffee shop in a hot neighborhood dead at primetime, average prices, and a more than stubborn pump pot. No joke; it took me no less than ninety secods to fill up a 16oz cup of black madness. Pump, pump, pump. At first. I thought the pot was dry, but when my seemingly futile pumping continued to yield coffee, I realized it was all just part of the dark threat of being late to work. The pot played out, and I was on the road with my joe.

In retrospect, I feel like this story is anticlimactic. I came, I saw, I had my coffee. What else ils there? The coffee, frankly, was tastier than Cooper's slightly bitter and sometimes overwhelming roast. But I'm not convinced I have a new "spot". I will, however, choose Landauers over Mojos when I want to stay close to home. At this point, I'm not ready to give up the Coopers' sure bet to a new business that doesn't even have the word 'coffee' plastered flippin' anywhere on the building. Wm. Landauers, I have faith, but I will not take stock until you have proven thy self.