Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Narrative Elements. Cinematic. Within five blocks.

After having bumped into my old barista crush in the street a little too much of late, blushing each time like a love-sick 13-year old, I decided it was time to take a break from Ninth Street Espresso, and so I set out for Abraco, also known as "Marie's place", also favored by Flemming who rides in from Bushwick every morning to get his daily fix, not to mention my old roomie Mads, with whom I came to have a daily dispute about where to go for our daily coffee. Eventually, we parted ways. While I set out for Ninth Street around the corner, he walked all the way to Abraço on 7th and 1st Ave, and it made sense somehow. Abraço serves cortados, Mads' favorite, whereas Ninth Street doesn't.

When I stepped out, the sun was shining, hardly any cars were out and about, and some jazzy tunes were emanating from the park where a guy sat on a bench in the shade and played a saxophone. I could hear him all the way to 7th Street.

When I came down to Abraço and got in line to the miniature coffee shop, so tiny that its customers spill into the street and form a quaint block party, the lady in the trench coat in front of me turned out to be Marie, who was there with her friend Margot visiting from France. Two second later, Flemming arrived on his bike from Bushwick.

Marie, being an Abraço regular, exchanged jokes with Jamie, the owner, flew in and out the store, checking if her order was ready, batting her eyelashes and "excuse me's" at the people she passed. Flemming, a regular too, was pretty much served ahead of others, basically just having to make a slight gesture to place his order. Another bike messenger, standing at the counter by the open window, nodded hello. Perhaps because they knew each other, perhaps because they were both wearing tight pants and messenger bags around their necks. Music was playing, tortillas Españolas sizzling on frying pans, people were chatting, high fives, "hey mans", "how's it going's" and other salutes flowing in the air.

We stood in the street for a while, drinking our coffee, chatting. Margot had a nice husky voice, a little like Jeanne Moreau's. Then I walked home, the saxophonist was still playing, and a man carrying a baby on his stomach had settled down next to him on the bench.

I close to finished my coffee on the way, which may very well be the sole reason why I won't become an Abraço regular. I kind of like to sit and finish it as I sit down and set to work.

No comments: