Jeremiah's School of Levitation
Upsy-Daisy!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Coffee with Sugar
What do you get when you cross Hooters "breast-aurant" with Victoria's Secret with a coffee shop?
I know! I know! Call on me!
See ...
Coffee shops in this corner of The Great Northwest are ubiquitous, as you've likely heard. ("How ubiquitous are they?"says the audience). They are so ubiquitous that, if they were alligators, then every resident here would be missing at least two limbs because we'd practically be stepping on them and, if we were lucky enough to dodge one gator, we'd trip on the other one behind him.
With coffee shops being in such abundance, you can also expect that shop themes are starting to wear thin. Most joints just go with the multiple padded seating options, arranged as if you were in a discussion group, and they leave it at that. Some places go for more Paris coffeehouse style, others try to look like flophouse lobbies, and still others try the library look.
And, for coffee patrons who are just looking to arm themselves for the freeway, right before they have to merge, you've got your enclosed coffee stands sitting like satellites in random parking lots, like those old Fotomat booths. Even these booths try some stylistic touches. I've seen them dressed up as log cabins or with signs asking the trivia question of the day (which, I'm thinking, no one can get it together enough to answer UNTIL they've had their coffee), but essentially, it's nothing riveting, because, in the end, all we want is our freeway fix.
Enter one enterprising booth, determined to get us our fix alright. Their theme is as I stated at the beginning. They have combined the girls of Hooters with the garments of Victoria's Secret with, what seems like overkill at this point, caffeine. Yikes! It's your coffee served to you by your favorite pole dancer. It's a steaming cup of joe handed to you by the very cause of steam herself. For a certain segment of the crowd, this is a brilliant idea.
I actually never noticed this particular stand (really!) until my wife told me about it and, with her generous blessing, I had to try it out. Well, I'll say this: it works as designed. I drove up in line behind, surprise surprise, a couple of guys in pickups, hoping that they may score their own special pick up. When my turn came, I rolled up to the window and Barbarella leaned WAY too far out to take my order. I kept my head facing to the front. I couldn't even look at her, and,
if I did, I wouldn't be able to see her for I would have fallen into the valley of the shadow of cleavage (okay, so I looked for just a MILLISECOND). I mumbled "double Americano please."
When she went inside to make the coffee, I decided to take a look at the inner workings of this booth. There was another barista in there and, I swear, I at first thought she was a lingere mannequin. She was wearing something like a pink and black nightie that looked like it was sewn onto her. Man. I glanced at Barbarella and confirmed that she too had an outfit
that made the St. Pauli girl look like she was dressed for a funeral. She had on this miniskirt that seemed to begin and end at the same place. JEEZ!
Okay, whew, so Barbarella finally comes back with my coffee and I negotiated a very awkward exchange where I tried to grab the cup without touching her, or looking directly at her, and, all the while, trying to keep from trembling. It was an agonizing five seconds. We finally worked out the exchange of coffee and money and she gave me her thanks and my change,
and I tipped her (No, it's NOT what you're thinking -- I put the money in the TIP JAR!).
I drove off, laughing now because, man, as titillating and brilliant an idea this was, it was ridiculous.
I've not gone back there because, really, I actually despise strip joints and Hooters-type enterprises simply because I refuse to pay for titillation. Overtly paying money for sex, or to have another human act all heated up in front of me, or expose themselves to me, doesn't do it for me. I prefer to EARN my titillation, thank you.
Then again, isn't it really just the coffee I'm paying for? Hmmm....
Well, because this place is a few miles from my house, and kind of out-of-the-way, I've never really thought much more about going there.
But, now, they've put one up close to my house. What's interesting about it is this new place is just about 100 feet FROM a strip joint, which made me chuckle. I wonder if the strip joint is something of a farm team for the coffee shop or if doing a double shift at the strip joint means dancing until 2 and then serving coffee from 5 to noon. And, if this idea catches on, I can see a whole new type of car wash springing up next.
I know! I know! Call on me!
See ...
Coffee shops in this corner of The Great Northwest are ubiquitous, as you've likely heard. ("How ubiquitous are they?"says the audience). They are so ubiquitous that, if they were alligators, then every resident here would be missing at least two limbs because we'd practically be stepping on them and, if we were lucky enough to dodge one gator, we'd trip on the other one behind him.
With coffee shops being in such abundance, you can also expect that shop themes are starting to wear thin. Most joints just go with the multiple padded seating options, arranged as if you were in a discussion group, and they leave it at that. Some places go for more Paris coffeehouse style, others try to look like flophouse lobbies, and still others try the library look.
And, for coffee patrons who are just looking to arm themselves for the freeway, right before they have to merge, you've got your enclosed coffee stands sitting like satellites in random parking lots, like those old Fotomat booths. Even these booths try some stylistic touches. I've seen them dressed up as log cabins or with signs asking the trivia question of the day (which, I'm thinking, no one can get it together enough to answer UNTIL they've had their coffee), but essentially, it's nothing riveting, because, in the end, all we want is our freeway fix.
Enter one enterprising booth, determined to get us our fix alright. Their theme is as I stated at the beginning. They have combined the girls of Hooters with the garments of Victoria's Secret with, what seems like overkill at this point, caffeine. Yikes! It's your coffee served to you by your favorite pole dancer. It's a steaming cup of joe handed to you by the very cause of steam herself. For a certain segment of the crowd, this is a brilliant idea.
I actually never noticed this particular stand (really!) until my wife told me about it and, with her generous blessing, I had to try it out. Well, I'll say this: it works as designed. I drove up in line behind, surprise surprise, a couple of guys in pickups, hoping that they may score their own special pick up. When my turn came, I rolled up to the window and Barbarella leaned WAY too far out to take my order. I kept my head facing to the front. I couldn't even look at her, and,
if I did, I wouldn't be able to see her for I would have fallen into the valley of the shadow of cleavage (okay, so I looked for just a MILLISECOND). I mumbled "double Americano please."
When she went inside to make the coffee, I decided to take a look at the inner workings of this booth. There was another barista in there and, I swear, I at first thought she was a lingere mannequin. She was wearing something like a pink and black nightie that looked like it was sewn onto her. Man. I glanced at Barbarella and confirmed that she too had an outfit
that made the St. Pauli girl look like she was dressed for a funeral. She had on this miniskirt that seemed to begin and end at the same place. JEEZ!
Okay, whew, so Barbarella finally comes back with my coffee and I negotiated a very awkward exchange where I tried to grab the cup without touching her, or looking directly at her, and, all the while, trying to keep from trembling. It was an agonizing five seconds. We finally worked out the exchange of coffee and money and she gave me her thanks and my change,
and I tipped her (No, it's NOT what you're thinking -- I put the money in the TIP JAR!).
I drove off, laughing now because, man, as titillating and brilliant an idea this was, it was ridiculous.
I've not gone back there because, really, I actually despise strip joints and Hooters-type enterprises simply because I refuse to pay for titillation. Overtly paying money for sex, or to have another human act all heated up in front of me, or expose themselves to me, doesn't do it for me. I prefer to EARN my titillation, thank you.
Then again, isn't it really just the coffee I'm paying for? Hmmm....
Well, because this place is a few miles from my house, and kind of out-of-the-way, I've never really thought much more about going there.
But, now, they've put one up close to my house. What's interesting about it is this new place is just about 100 feet FROM a strip joint, which made me chuckle. I wonder if the strip joint is something of a farm team for the coffee shop or if doing a double shift at the strip joint means dancing until 2 and then serving coffee from 5 to noon. And, if this idea catches on, I can see a whole new type of car wash springing up next.
Elliot, 10:54 AM
3 Back at me:
I read in the paper about this place, but i've never visited. Probably because i don't drink coffee. (Sacrilege!) Doen't it have some cutesy name?
Breastistas?
Breastistas?
Americans! what will they think of next?
btw... how was the joe?
btw... how was the joe?
I'm all for titillation - at a bachelorette party. :-) But, if I want coffee, I want coffee. Duh. Not breasts serving coffee. But, I would go there to check it out if we had one.
