Home Sweet Two Percent Home

Image by rudolf_schuba via Flickr

I have given up trying to rationalize the amount of time I spend at Starbucks with my laptop and a quad venti no foam latte. I have admittedly developed a routine, a ritual, a habit. A habit that cannot be defined within the confines of the plate glass windows, the waft of freshly ground beans, end the nearly floating pastry case. No, it goes beyond even the physical addictive properties of caffeine to a full bodied Starbucks experience.

There is something about the people watching, the tunes, the sounds, the sights, and the smells. I’m attracted to it all especially being able to smell coffee when I open my car door in the parking lot. Not to mention the welcoming, pleasant, bordering on hypnotic, illuminated green and white signage that always greets me regardless of my point of entry. Not to mention the mermaid, my muse. And equally appealing, the canned “Hi!” casually shouted at me (and everyone else after me) from behind the protective espresso machine.

Another benefit is getting to know the baristas by name… until they use my name and then I am quickly reminded of just how much time and money I spend in the same Starbucks week after week. Reconsidering my addiction briefly I compare the other potential addictions: porn, alcohol, sex, crack, and bad television and release the tension in my shoulders. There are worse things than extra strong coffee and steamed two percent milk.

My adoration for the dimly lit trendy environment of Starbucks is far better than any bar or office supply store and I’m sure quite sure that is precisely how the brains behind the business at Starbucks want it. It is where I chose to spend some quality me time. It might be a bit much but I don’t leave stumbling or linked arm in arm with a stranger. Instead I leave feeling valued and slightly buzzed, having spent time pondering my next post in my blog or what the freak next to me will say next. I dare say it’s nearly my home away from home.