A smile. A short exchange of workplace woes or weekend adventures. A simple kind of satisfaction that came from “the usual, please.”
A week out of the cafe and into my travels, I think about the faces that brightened mine every day.
The one who was too cool to take off his shades inside. Small coffee with soy. His friend. The one who was always so generous in tipping. Small coffee with soy as well. The one who was fascinated by condors. Tuna sandwich with jalapenos. The one who was moving a couple blocks down. Double espresso in a to-go cup. The one who was too wonderfully polite to be from the city. Small latte. Large latte for her husband. The one who was more charming than a Disney prince. Single macchiato. The one who was quite possibly in the mafia, though I didn’t press the subject too much. Single espresso. The one who was more persistent than a struggling actress in the big city. Large cappucino and blueberry muffin. The one who was shockingly still alive despite all of the caffeine he consumed on a daily basis. Grilled cheese sandwich with proscuitto and a coke if eating, double espresso if not, large coffee if he already had two doubles. The one who was deep and contemplative and always a pleasure to talk with. Soy cappucino in a ceramic mug. The one who was always staying up way too late every single night. Bacon egg and cheese if eating, large latte and a blueberry muffin if not. The one who was trying to be financially prudent but came every day during my last week anyways. Roasted chicken sandwich and chips. The one who was always matching every piece of clothing on her. Tuna sandwich and iced coffee with a little bit of milk. The one who was from the sixth floor. Carrot cake and espresso. The one who was always so encouraging of all of my life decisions. Carrot cake and black tea. The one who was more habitual about his 330 coffee than I am about my daily vitamins. Large latte.
To that one, those ones, and so many more, thank you for resisting the common misconception that a couple of bucks permits you to be a contemptibly obnoxious jerk. I have appreciated you all, more than you know. And when people ask me if it is true about rough and tough New Yorkers, I think of you–and your drink orders, reflexively–and can’t help but smile when I proceed to tell them of this little place called DUMBO and its denizens of whom have been sooo crucial to my year and snuck ever closer to my heart.
