Now I assumed it was a café because of the nice little espresso pictures printed on the awning next to their name (which seemed apt for a tea house), and so didn't think twice as we walked hand in hand, excitedly past the Eastern-Europeans swilling bottled beers on the patio and into the bar. As I headed towards the bar on the back wall, I thought of my friend's basement which is consistently in the early phases of remodeling. An old wrap around sofa and a tv greet you as you enter, then a long table with a couple of twenty-somethings on the opposite wall. From there, you look really hard and squint to see that there's a bar and one single employee at the far end of the place. The uneasiness of walking through such a wide-open room flanked with the occasional hole in the drywall and messy paint gives you the feeling of walking slower than you really are, like some unnamed force is holding you back. It's like a dream.
We finally make it to the bar and ask the lady for a coffee menu, only to realize that one is already waiting for us, perked up on a little silver menu holder just to our side, offering a modest array of options : espresso, latté, cappuccino.. t
he usual suspects. We order a cappuccino and a latté and are given several minutes to wonder to ourselves whether or not we made the right decisions, or if coming to this place was the right decision at all. Either way, we couldn't tell her to stop now - she was very focused on the task at hand.. it seemed she was even overly focused, as if she didn't do this very often.. but I won't assume. Not after my mother told me what it is to ass-u-me.Now she got her drink before me, which prompted me to swiftly raise both eyebrows, smile larger and for longer than necessary, and look inquisitively at, in, and around her beverage. This of course was a gesture that everyone in a relationship has done at some time or another - faking enthusiasm so that the other will enjoy him/herself because they think that you genuinely approve of what is happening. It's a cruel trick, and one of the oldest, and luckily, it works most every time.
Now the bartendress brought over my drink and we made our exodus back to the outdoor seating area and claimed a little metal set-up for the next half-hour. We spent most the time talking about any funny little thing that came into our heads and speculated on a dispute that was occurring over my shoulder. We sipped and sampled each other's drinks only to learn that neither one was the best. They were thin and uninspired and slowly made in a big empty unfinished bar with a misleading awning, but we laughed about it anyways. Disappointed with the beverages my girlfriend ended our night on a cheery note, adding, "At least you have something to write about on your blog now!"
If you are excited by espresso, and appreciate a well-crafted beverage, I urge you to avoid getting your fix at a bar, but if you have to, at least bring someone who will make the time spent worthwhile.
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