I Heard a Mouse Fart

It is fairly common knowledge that Portland is one of the Country’s darlings of coffee culture. Aside from the roasters themselves, it is the establishments that give the art of drinking coffee an actual pulse, something to do to feel purposeful. They are the key ingredient in the age old tradition of “meeting up for coffee.” I’ll admit that after working a Starbucks for many years and in a way being forced to observe the interactions of the customers I grew to hate going out for a cup of coffee. Mostly to feel like I was not doing work related things after work but also because I came to a few realizations and one is that coffee shops have become less about meeting up and more of a haven for people too poor to afford their own internet, students who obviously cannot concentrate at home, unhappy husbands who cannot wait to get out of the house in morning to read the paper or their kindle, and Mom’s who have no clue what else to do after they take the baby for a jog in the running stroller. Getting coffee had morphed into a solo adventure and due to that fact has made people who actually want to have a conversation over a cup of joe feel slightly uncomfortable.

Yesterday, my cohort and I, after both coming to the conclusion that the last place we wanted to be Sunday afternoon was a bar, opted for “getting coffee.” Our adventures stared out by taking us to Palio in Ladd’s Addition. The second we walked in I looked around and was instantly turned off by the amount of person’s totally using up a table meant for 4 just so they could check tweet some bullshit about how lame Linguistics 101 is.

We had to leave due to lack of seating and headed for Division where what seemed to be the best option was the simply named Coffee Division or Divison Coffee, I guess that shit was interchangeable. (Another stupid trend, just calling your joint “coffee” or “coffeehouse”, yes simplicity is great but in the land of 10,000 latte joints up the ante a little bit). At this place there were two seating options: one by the front door where we were to be treated to a cool breeze every time someone went outside to smoke an American Spirit or; 2 the world’s quietest room said for the sound of keyboard tapping felt that if I sat down in this room and said one word I would have been whisked away from the monestary like room of the coffee house and punished just for saying the word’s “how about this seat?” without a Mac book tucked under my arm.

We ended up going with the table by the door and I survived the crazy ominous quiet vibe despite by many desires to talk above what was obviously a universally felt comfort level of -0 disciples.  Afterwards, to pat ourselves on the back for surviving wifi hell we went to Eastburn  where 90% of the people there were with other people and only 1 laptop in sight. Now I don’t have to wonder why I gave up on going out for coffee years ago. I’ll stick with the social crowd.