The two dudes working the counter have that 1990’s video store vibe. In addition to slinging coffee drinks, they also select the music. And by “select the music”, I mean they select which vinyl to spin on the record player, each selection requires a recitation on a bit of liner note trivia. The older one is an older chubby hippie. I don’t know why chubby is spelled with a “y” but hippy is spelled with an “ie”. … separate topic, but someone should sort that. He likes to hang in the background and heat up slices of pie and wash dishes. He also likes to smoke pot. This takes the edge off his caffeination and prevents him from being an annoying a-hole, as sometime people with too much caffeine in their system can be. The younger one, is a nerd, attempting transition to hipsterdom. He isn’t there yet. His caffeine to pot ratio could use a little more of the herb and a little less of the bean. He is incredibly efficient though, thanks to his current state of caffeination. When I order in my usual deadpan style, which I’ve been told invokes the fear of God or maybe that Javier Bardem character in “No Country for Old Men”, he is undaunted. I specify that I want a black cup. He instantly recognizes that I mean business and this isn’t a chat fest opportunity for me. He jumps on it and brings back a very dark blue cup, which borders on being black. He acknowledges the gap in the deliverable from the stated requirement, and politely asks if the dark navy will suffice. His forthrightness is rewarded with a concession on my part. I take the blue cup. Next I request cocoa powder. He is also quick with this. The choices are Mexican Chocolate and something else. The something else is irrelevant because I choose Mexican Chocolate. He executes flawlessly. He changes the music from 13th Floor Elevators to the White Stripes, skipping over Gogol Bordello because the chubby hippie can’t abide.

I’ve made friends with a sweet pooch on the porch. I’m inside, but I see him through the window, wagging his tail. His owner is of the LGBTQ ilk, blending the L,T, and Q a bit while on what appears to be a blind date or a new-ish acquaintance date. The dog owner is pretty cool, (cool Tom Boy hair, outfit, and shoes…) and I wonder if the date is disappointing or enchanting. The pooch has gotten tangled in it’s leash a couple of times. Each time this happens, I make eye contact with it, and send messages on how to unwind. When I exit, if it’s still on the porch, I’ll stop for a cuddle as my reward.

There is a fellow here who challenges classification, but I’ll try. Long hair.. like falling below the belt line. The belt line in question covers a small pouchy gut, but one that doesn’t yet register on the gross scale. The belt also holds a large buck knife in the back. This is Texas. So.. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. But, it seems like, one could easily snatch the knife. There is nothing about his sloppy black cargo pants with too many pockets and pouches that suggest ninja. So, the blatant buck knife seems silly. Also, his long hair has split ends. I’m confused by all the converging elements of his ensemble. Not my concern…. moving on. The hippie is serving coffee now and has a laugh that makes me wish he would retreat to the back and heat up some cherry pie. It’s shift change for the baristamaniacs. Mr. Caffeination handles the transition. A fat man in the corner wearing mom jeans is playing Pokemon Go. The mom jeans are not worn in a Norm-Core ironic way. They are his real pants. The Not-a-Ninja hippie with the buck knife keeps eyeballing me. I was probably eyeballing him a little, in an effort to sort out his situation, and now he’s giving me a bit of a vibe like we are in a club on Ladies Night. Ah… yes. he’s a roadie of some sort. I’ve been out of that business for quite a while, hence I didn’t pick it up at first. But as I watched him walk, it became obvious. Has that swagger like the fellow who runs the Himalayan Carnival Ride at the fair.

The pooch on the porch has finally settled, laying down with closed eyes. It’s owner is leaning in, talking comfortably to her date. The fat man in the corner is congratulated for getting all the pokemons by a young kid as he walks by. The shift change is complete. A new pot of light roast has brewed. Chubby Hippie is cleaning the bathrooms before he leaves, which means he isn’t laughing. D’Angelo’s Black Messiah replaces the White Stripes on the turn table. I breathe easy and enjoy my coffee.