Looking across the street I had to admit that the sight of those teenagers hanging around outside the place made me wary. Maybe it's the generation gap. Granted it's only been five years since I was a teenager, but they looked like creatures from another world, particularly the guys wearing what appeared to be their little sisters pants. Do fads really change that much in five years?
Luckily the entrance was along the side of the building. I quickly stepped in and lifted my hat up a bit to savor the air conditioning. It was a small room. The coffee table and sofa along the wall dominated most of the space. There were also a pair of tables along the opposite wall and along the window as well. The display case stood tall, sectioning off almost the entire back part of the room, leaving only a small corridor for the register, counter top, and the connecting door to the Rock community center.
The rafters in the ceiling were visible, which fit well with the bare brick wall along one side. It almost felt like a set piece for a 90's TV show, but gave the room a cozy enough atmosphere. I would expect it to be crowded after the local schools let out but as it's been a few hours since it was rather empty.
The flat screen TV along one wall was muffled by the sounds of a local rock station emanating from hidden speakers. At least I didn't see them on my first glance. It also served to drown out much of the noise from the open door to the community center. Thankfully. Still, looking through the window at the pool table and computers they had, I was starting to wonder why I didn't have a place like that when I was in high school.
I had stumbled across this place last week on the way home from the barber shop. I was half out of it from the walk and the hot sun overhead when I saw the brilliant display atop the building. I thought it was a mirage but decided to chance it anyway. When I made it inside, I asked the guy at the counter for a white mocha. I was stunned when he asked me if I wanted it "on the rocks". Finally! Someone who speaks my language! The first sip was pure bliss as well, which was why I had to come back again today.
There was a different guy behind the counter this time. He needed some clarification as to what on the rocks meant, but he didn't do a bad job at all. They definitely have some quality talent working here. And judging by the display case, some delicious looking pastries as well. I would've picked a cheese danish, but I'm trying to watch my waistline.
From the chat I overheard the last time I was here, it seems 50% of the proceeds to go the community center. I'm surprised they're able to price their drinks competitively and still manage to keep the place open when making that much of a donation.
While I was waiting for my drink, I noticed a chess board had been set up on the coffee table. I figured it was abandoned and commandeered the spot, noticing the box for it under the table. There were a few other games under there as well, so I guess it's the property of the establishment. It's been awhile since I've played, so I figured I may as well get some practice against myself since there didn't seem to be anyone else around at that moment.
A few minutes later, I had my black queen pinned between a knight and a hard place when an eager young man came in from the other room and poised himself behind the chair in front and to my left with his camera, readying for a shot. I think he even clicked one off before asking for permission, saying I just "looked cool". I'm not usually one for getting my picture taken by a complete stranger, but I was young once. And he must have been going through his artistic phase. Besides, who doesn't like looking cool?
Without looking up from the board, I shrugged and said "Sure, go ahead". I still tipped my hat a bit forward over my eyes. I sometimes get strange reactions when I wear a wide brim, but this was the first time someone wanted to take my picture over it. I couldn't think of another reason for it at least.
He left just as suddenly as he came, leaving me alone to finish my game. I was about to put the black king into check when another youth came in to check out what I was doing, taking a seat across from me. His dark eyes scanned the board, and he paid rapt attention to my moves.
If it's one thing I dislike more than playing against myself, it's being watched while I do it. Turning the board around, I reset the pieces and asked if he wanted to play. He accepted my offer and decided to play as black. Which was fine by me, although I'm used to being on the defensive.
I started by occupying the center squares right away. Back in seventh grade, my science teacher had taught me the four move checkmate. He didn't really teach how to block it, that was something I learned on my own. When I took the center, the boy cleared the path for his bishop. Just like my old teacher had done.
The strategy I made up to defeat this maneuver is a little something my friend Travis likes to call The Pawn Phalanx. At least that's what he dubbed it after I had beaten him in a few games. By using my pawns to back each other up, his bishop cannot penetrate to my king. And it leaves a rather cluttered field, allowing my pieces to defend each other up from many angles. It's not a perfect strategy, but it's good enough to beat novices.
I took a sip from my cup as the kid contemplated his next move. In a few minutes, I had already had his king on the run. But he showed promise, keeping my queen under pressure. And he made short work of my second one when I was able to promote a pawn. But with my stronger positioning, I was able to fork his king between my queen and a rook. He wasn't the type to accept defeat lightly, it seemed. He eagerly accepted a rematch.
Four games later and he was called away by a young girl, presumably his little sister. Smart kid, but he could use some more experience to help him think outside the box. Somehow, in spite of the odd fashion trends, I don't think that will be as much of a problem for his generation as it seemed to be for mine. All anyone really needs is just room to learn and grow.
A buzzing from my phone snapped me from my thoughts, and I pulled it from my pocket to check the new text message. There's this Italian place that isn't too far from here, but I never really had the opportunity to check it out. Apparently I'm not the only one anxious to try it out, as an acquaintance of mine is asking if I would accompany her. I was never one to turn down a good meal. Particularly if the company is good.
I reset the board, leaving the pieces as I found them, poised to do battle once again. I wonder how long it'll take before someone else takes it up. I lifted my hat to soak in as much of the air conditioning as I could before clapping it back on and walking back into the fading summer sun.
Eagles Landing Coffee House
4808 Townsend Ave, Los Angeles, CA
(323) 257-6102
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Waiting Game
She had called me while I was on the bus, asking if I wanted to hang out today. I was already halfway to the coffee shop, and that was alright with her. It's where we first met, after all, so it'll feel almost nostalgic to see her there again. She had asked me for a pen. One thing led to another, and we ended up swapping phone numbers. Still, it's been over a month and we haven't even had a proper date yet. Maybe that'll change today.
After I hung up, I had to lift up my hat and mop my forehead off with a bandanna. The summer heat wasn't too bad as I stepped off the bus, but being dressed as I was, it was starting to feel a little stifling. Especially under the backpack I had slung over my shoulder. I guess a black button down shirt with a silver tie isn't proper attire for the season, but I'm uncomfortable in short sleeves. Which was another reason why I found myself walking down Maryland today. The tall buildings provided enough shade to keep things cool as I made my way to a familiar spot.
The tables outside of the Urartu cafe were manned by smokers, not an uncommon sight in this town. Luckily there was only a light smell of tobacco. I barely had a whiff as I passed on through the glass doors. Inside was noticeably cooler than the atmosphere on the sidewalk, and I was relieved to see a familiar face behind the counter.
When it comes to places like this, the baristas can make or break the experience. Some places seem to specialize in nonchalant aloofness whereas others encourage their employees to smile with enough corporate enthusiasm to seem very uncanny valley. This cafe is staffed by a tall, jovial fellow with an accent slightly reminiscent of Bela Lugosi. He also makes a great white chocolate mocha.
After ordering my usual, on the rocks, he waves toward the tables, prompting me to pick a spot while he says he'll "... bring it right over". Setting up my laptop, I remembered another reason why I like this place so much: Free internet access. This cafe has a wireless access point that provides a decent bandwidth unencumbered by login screens, passwords, or charge by the minute and/or hour services. All that's required is the cost of a beverage, which was hand delivered by the time my laptop had booted up. He also has a few desktops set up for customer use, and at a reasonable price as well. The sandwiches aren't bad either.
It's pretty quiet here today, as it usually is. There's one regular in a straw hat seated in the niche by the window, which is usually my favorite spot when I'm here alone. He certainly has a perfect view of the place. The air conditioning is turned low, not enough to chill the place but it was comfortable. The dim orange lighting adds to the relaxed atmosphere, almost overpowered by the sunlight reflected off the buildings across the street.
When it comes to coffee shops, the atmosphere is as much a drawing point as the drinks. This place is definitely a neighborhood establishment, with a steady number of regulars staked out, but it's close enough to the Glendale Galleria and the Americana to draw in some fresh faces as well. It's also a good place to study, as evidenced by the gaggle of students that usually assemble on the couches by the window with their notes and laptops sprawled across the coffee table. Despite the number of bodies that can gather both outside and in, the atmosphere is always relaxed and quiet. Perfect for a writer like myself.
Looking out the window, there didn't seem to be too many people out to brave the sun, but there were enough to make it interesting. There was one girl that walked by wearing a dress that looked like an upside down tulip with a slight flare around her hips. It was rather short, and looked ridiculous, but she had the legs for it. I was also staring to notice a trend of girls in white sun dresses. Not a bad look at all for the season, and it's probably cool as well. Still, some were just sheer enough for one to notice a little more than the outline of what was underneath.
This is starting to worry me. Any other guy would just enjoy the view. I'm probably the only one that takes it in and thinks "Whatever happened to a little thing called a slip?" Not that I'm complaining, but modesty seems to be a rare trait these days. I kind of like to leave a little to the imagination. What do you know? I guess I am complaining after all.
Looking away from the window, I reached over for my cup and put the straw to my lips. The first sip is always the best. Sometimes you get a drink where they're a little heavy on the syrup, which can prove for a nice little jolt initially. Other times it's too light, where the espresso overpowers the other flavors. But here, it's almost always perfection. The coolness of the ice mixed with the smooth white chocolate had me feeling very relaxed in an instant. At least until she called me again.
She said she'd only be a few minutes more. It was a short talk, which was understandable. The cops are likely to pull you over these days for talking on a cell phone while driving, even if you're using a headset. And with her driving record, it's best for her to be careful.
I couldn't help the sigh as I slipped my phone back into it's pocket. It's always a girl with green eyes. Not that I had noticed when I first met her, but it was apparent soon enough. I'm starting to wonder if it's a curse with me. Green eyes are always trouble. Sometimes I don't mind a bit of trouble, but one pair in particular had proven to be too much. I wonder if that will be the case this time.
Speaking of green eyes, I'm surprised I hadn't noticed this girl earlier. She was seated at a table in front of me. A dirty blond, not too tall, but had a lithe figure that suited her. I'll admit to being a bit nosy when I glanced over at the screen of her laptop. It looked like she was working on an outline for an essay when her screen went blank. A few repeated attempts to revive her machine proved fruitless, but she caught the attention of the barista, who not only allowed her to use the cafe's computers, but also went in the back to retrieve some fresh ink cartridges so she could print out her assignment as well. Now that is quality service.
I tried not to stare as I typed away on my keyboard. Still, every so often my eyes would flip over the top of my screen at her. Sure, I was waiting for someone, but it's not like we were in a relationship or anything. A date is an audition of sorts, a tryout. It's been a month, and even with a few phone calls and a quick lunch here or there, I haven't really felt that spark with her. Perhaps that's why my eyes were fixated on someone else right now, and another girl with green eyes at that. With that thought, I lifted my hat a bit and lowered the brim a touch over my eyes.
Before I knew it, another hour had passed, and the green eyed girl before me had walked out the door. The one I was waiting on had yet to arrive. My cup was drained down to a few ice cubes and half a watery dollop of whipped cream. I was tempted to get a refill, but the day was wearing on. I figured I'd give her another twenty minutes to call before I decided what to do. In the meantime, I had a chapter that needed an ending.
An hour later had me stuffing my laptop in my backpack. She still hadn't called, and I got her voice mail half an hour earlier when I tried. With the same result twenty minutes after that. I was actually looking forward to seeing her, but at this point I had to face facts. I've been stood up.
I rose from my seat, swinging the bag over my shoulders, and gave a wave to the barista behind the counter. He returned it, calling out “I'll see you next time!” He probably would.
As I was stepping through the door, I nearly ran into a tall young lady in jeans and a blue sweatshirt who looked to be about nineteen or twenty. There were blond streaks in her chestnut hair. It framed her face rather nicely, complimenting her brown eyes. I stood there looking at her for an instant before I came to my senses. I stepped to the side with a tip of my hat, allowing her to pass into the cafe.
For a moment, I thought about following her in. I wouldn't have minded another mocha, and I might have better luck with brown eyes than green. The one mistake I made was standing there for too long. The moment had passed. I reached up to adjust my hat before starting down the sidewalk.
Urartu Coffee: http://www.urartucoffee.com
After I hung up, I had to lift up my hat and mop my forehead off with a bandanna. The summer heat wasn't too bad as I stepped off the bus, but being dressed as I was, it was starting to feel a little stifling. Especially under the backpack I had slung over my shoulder. I guess a black button down shirt with a silver tie isn't proper attire for the season, but I'm uncomfortable in short sleeves. Which was another reason why I found myself walking down Maryland today. The tall buildings provided enough shade to keep things cool as I made my way to a familiar spot.
The tables outside of the Urartu cafe were manned by smokers, not an uncommon sight in this town. Luckily there was only a light smell of tobacco. I barely had a whiff as I passed on through the glass doors. Inside was noticeably cooler than the atmosphere on the sidewalk, and I was relieved to see a familiar face behind the counter.
When it comes to places like this, the baristas can make or break the experience. Some places seem to specialize in nonchalant aloofness whereas others encourage their employees to smile with enough corporate enthusiasm to seem very uncanny valley. This cafe is staffed by a tall, jovial fellow with an accent slightly reminiscent of Bela Lugosi. He also makes a great white chocolate mocha.
After ordering my usual, on the rocks, he waves toward the tables, prompting me to pick a spot while he says he'll "... bring it right over". Setting up my laptop, I remembered another reason why I like this place so much: Free internet access. This cafe has a wireless access point that provides a decent bandwidth unencumbered by login screens, passwords, or charge by the minute and/or hour services. All that's required is the cost of a beverage, which was hand delivered by the time my laptop had booted up. He also has a few desktops set up for customer use, and at a reasonable price as well. The sandwiches aren't bad either.
It's pretty quiet here today, as it usually is. There's one regular in a straw hat seated in the niche by the window, which is usually my favorite spot when I'm here alone. He certainly has a perfect view of the place. The air conditioning is turned low, not enough to chill the place but it was comfortable. The dim orange lighting adds to the relaxed atmosphere, almost overpowered by the sunlight reflected off the buildings across the street.
When it comes to coffee shops, the atmosphere is as much a drawing point as the drinks. This place is definitely a neighborhood establishment, with a steady number of regulars staked out, but it's close enough to the Glendale Galleria and the Americana to draw in some fresh faces as well. It's also a good place to study, as evidenced by the gaggle of students that usually assemble on the couches by the window with their notes and laptops sprawled across the coffee table. Despite the number of bodies that can gather both outside and in, the atmosphere is always relaxed and quiet. Perfect for a writer like myself.
Looking out the window, there didn't seem to be too many people out to brave the sun, but there were enough to make it interesting. There was one girl that walked by wearing a dress that looked like an upside down tulip with a slight flare around her hips. It was rather short, and looked ridiculous, but she had the legs for it. I was also staring to notice a trend of girls in white sun dresses. Not a bad look at all for the season, and it's probably cool as well. Still, some were just sheer enough for one to notice a little more than the outline of what was underneath.
This is starting to worry me. Any other guy would just enjoy the view. I'm probably the only one that takes it in and thinks "Whatever happened to a little thing called a slip?" Not that I'm complaining, but modesty seems to be a rare trait these days. I kind of like to leave a little to the imagination. What do you know? I guess I am complaining after all.
Looking away from the window, I reached over for my cup and put the straw to my lips. The first sip is always the best. Sometimes you get a drink where they're a little heavy on the syrup, which can prove for a nice little jolt initially. Other times it's too light, where the espresso overpowers the other flavors. But here, it's almost always perfection. The coolness of the ice mixed with the smooth white chocolate had me feeling very relaxed in an instant. At least until she called me again.
She said she'd only be a few minutes more. It was a short talk, which was understandable. The cops are likely to pull you over these days for talking on a cell phone while driving, even if you're using a headset. And with her driving record, it's best for her to be careful.
I couldn't help the sigh as I slipped my phone back into it's pocket. It's always a girl with green eyes. Not that I had noticed when I first met her, but it was apparent soon enough. I'm starting to wonder if it's a curse with me. Green eyes are always trouble. Sometimes I don't mind a bit of trouble, but one pair in particular had proven to be too much. I wonder if that will be the case this time.
Speaking of green eyes, I'm surprised I hadn't noticed this girl earlier. She was seated at a table in front of me. A dirty blond, not too tall, but had a lithe figure that suited her. I'll admit to being a bit nosy when I glanced over at the screen of her laptop. It looked like she was working on an outline for an essay when her screen went blank. A few repeated attempts to revive her machine proved fruitless, but she caught the attention of the barista, who not only allowed her to use the cafe's computers, but also went in the back to retrieve some fresh ink cartridges so she could print out her assignment as well. Now that is quality service.
I tried not to stare as I typed away on my keyboard. Still, every so often my eyes would flip over the top of my screen at her. Sure, I was waiting for someone, but it's not like we were in a relationship or anything. A date is an audition of sorts, a tryout. It's been a month, and even with a few phone calls and a quick lunch here or there, I haven't really felt that spark with her. Perhaps that's why my eyes were fixated on someone else right now, and another girl with green eyes at that. With that thought, I lifted my hat a bit and lowered the brim a touch over my eyes.
Before I knew it, another hour had passed, and the green eyed girl before me had walked out the door. The one I was waiting on had yet to arrive. My cup was drained down to a few ice cubes and half a watery dollop of whipped cream. I was tempted to get a refill, but the day was wearing on. I figured I'd give her another twenty minutes to call before I decided what to do. In the meantime, I had a chapter that needed an ending.
An hour later had me stuffing my laptop in my backpack. She still hadn't called, and I got her voice mail half an hour earlier when I tried. With the same result twenty minutes after that. I was actually looking forward to seeing her, but at this point I had to face facts. I've been stood up.
I rose from my seat, swinging the bag over my shoulders, and gave a wave to the barista behind the counter. He returned it, calling out “I'll see you next time!” He probably would.
As I was stepping through the door, I nearly ran into a tall young lady in jeans and a blue sweatshirt who looked to be about nineteen or twenty. There were blond streaks in her chestnut hair. It framed her face rather nicely, complimenting her brown eyes. I stood there looking at her for an instant before I came to my senses. I stepped to the side with a tip of my hat, allowing her to pass into the cafe.
For a moment, I thought about following her in. I wouldn't have minded another mocha, and I might have better luck with brown eyes than green. The one mistake I made was standing there for too long. The moment had passed. I reached up to adjust my hat before starting down the sidewalk.
Urartu Coffee: http://www.urartucoffee.com
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