Tales from a Marina Cafe

Squat & Gobble

2263 Chestnut Street (The Marina)

Tuesday 7/13/10 2-3 pm

Notes:

I set out to hoodmapp The Grove, notebook in hand but as I walk down Chestnut Street, I am overpowered by the smell of bacon. As I look up at the sign, I chuckle. Squat & Gobble had officially got my attention.

As I walk in and scan the room, guys in argyle sweaters and attractive girls with colorful tank tops surrounded me. The shoe apparel of choice seems to be flip-flops. I step up to the counter and order a side of extra crispy bacon and an ice tea.

Two college age girls sit across from me eating matching salads. They both are wearing colorful tank tops, one purple, one pink, and Diesel jeans.

I check in on foursquare and take note that Hank L. is the mayor here. I laugh as I spot him at the corner table. He is doing a bang-up job.

The matching salad girls talk about their boys. Purple tank top states loudly, “ I was like if he doesn’t want to make the time for me then, NEXT”! Pink tank top nods her head in agreement as she takes a huge bite of her Mexican Chicken Salad.

I pause and smile. Simple Minds, “Don’t You Forget About me,” the theme song from The Breakfast Club is playing. I think about John Hughes.

Three stereotypical Marina boys sit at the center table. They are wearing button-up shirts, shorts, and flip-flops. All three still have their sunglasses on even though the lighting in the café is dim. They are talking loudly about last night’s adventure. They seem fuzzy on some of the key details.

A girl enters. She looks like a young Kate Moss. The three Marina boys watch her strut to the counter. They whisper and laugh. I am glad I can’t hear what they are saying.

David Bowie’s “Suffragette City” is playing in the background.

An attractive athletic guy enters. Mid 30’s, skinny jeans, black t-shirt. He walks over towards Kate. He kisses her on the forehead. The three Marina boys turn back to their breakfast disappointed.

“Ohhh, wham bam thank you maam!”

The guy in the red hoodie next to me sits hunched over his Mac. He is working hard-core. Ear phones on, pen in mouth, typing away madly. His food sits next to him untouched. Looks like he is writing some kind of article. Papers spread wildly across the table. I imagine he is some kind of literary genius. Suddenly I feel like Bridget Jones. Could do worse. I love her.

Music changes. It’s Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf,” I love this place. I suddenly wonder what it’s like to smell like you sound?

As I scope out the place, I realize this is more of a social scene than work type place. The only two serious laptopers are red hoodie guy and a young blonde woman on the opposite side of the café. It’s like a type off or something. Every other table is full of two or more friends. I am the only solo person without a computer. Secretly observing them all. I suddenly feel kinda creepy.

Four college frat boy types rush past me. BU hats, khaki shorts, flip-flops. Am I the only person in this café besides the staff wearing sneakers? Must I be haunted by Boston everywhere I go? They order breakfast then thankfully head towards the garden patio.

Kate Moss gets up to go to the bathroom. The Boston boys swoon.

Madonna’s, “Who’s that girl,” starts playing. I marvel at the fact that the music playing in the café seems to be syncing up to what is going on around me. My timer goes off. My meter has run out. I leave a tip on the table and make a note to come back again for the music. The sunlight blinds me as I open the door to the café and wander out to the busy street.

Please check out our Hoodmapped blog to read more interesting café observations. If you would like to come and play with us please let me know. http://hoodmapped.com/

All About Me.mov

The 'Miami Thrice" is a lame name

Dear LeBron,

It has taken me nearly a day to recover from your BIG decision. I am obviously disappointed in your choice and the fact that you probably didn’t receive my first letter. Even though you claim your choice was based on winning, I still think it was wrong. I am however interested to see how it plays out in the coming season.

The biggest question I have is who is going to be the first to compromise? Who is going to give up shots? Wade or LeBron? As I stated in my last blog, Bosh complements either player. He is not the problem. The battle of the Miami egos will be an epic one. Everyone is “friends” now and eager to rule the East (which is kinda an easy task) but wait till these two rock stars are forced to take less shots and share the ball. Will these egomaniacs be satisfied with only 20 pts or less a night? Wade stated that they are "arguably the best trio ever to play the game of basketball.” I believe that to be a bit of an overstatement.

Btw LeBron, I found your hour special to be BORING! It would have been more entertaining if it had been more reality TV and less cheesy horror film. Not a nail biter at all. We all knew it was going to be Miami but hoped for a surprise ending anyway.

Check out this link to an article explaining why Miami will not win a ring. I am not sure I agree on NEVER but I liked the reasoning behind it.
 http://bleacherreport.com/articles/417883-miami-thrice-will-never-win-a-ring

NBA Reality TV - Starring LeBron James

As a self-proclaimed NBA fanatic, I have been pondering this LeBron situation since the announcement at the beginning of the week. Why would ESPN give King James a whole hour show, when all he really needs is a 15-minute press conference? What makes LeBron more newsworthy than Kobe or Michael? How many rings does he have?

Don’t get me wrong, I love LeBron as a player and recognize his GREATNESS but this whole social media circus; surrounding his decision has left an extremely bad taste in my mouth. With today’s social media outlets leaks and rumors are easily spread. Yesterday alone there were many confirmations from “credible” sources that LeBron was going to the Knicks and to Miami. My brother figured the reason he is making his statement from Greenwich, was that it was close to the Garden. I was thinking that if he were in fact leaving Cleveland, it would be a great idea not to be home, when the world finds out. While writing this blog post I did a Twitter search for LeBron. In the last 10 minutes, there have been 1,855 tweets. As an Egomaniac I know that he is relishing all this attention.

I wonder how this reality show will play out. Will they wait till the last minute like Dancing With the Stars or American Idol? At 5 till will they announce, “We will be right back with LeBron’s decision," and then cut to a LeBron commercial. Will he come back wearing the jersey of choice? I hope not but if he reveals his decision in the first 10 minutes, what will the rest of the program focus on?

I am about to ironically contradict myself and put my two cents in. Here is a letter to LeBron from yours truly.

Dear LeBron,

I know you have had a hard time making your decision. So hard in fact that you need a whole hour of our time to make the grand reveal. Here is what I think you should and shouldn’t do. Btw buddy word spell check hates your name.

No to Chicago buddy. You will have to give up your jersey there and honestly, Jordan is too much to live up to. You are amazing but you are not Michael.

A big fat NO to Miami. It sounds good in theory but you and Wade are not the sharing types. You like to get big points and so does he. Bosh complements you both but you guys are not TEAM players. Look at what happened with the 2003 Lakers all-star team, the year they had Shaq, Kobe, Malone, and Payton. They lost to Detroit.

No to staying in Cleveland. Mostly because if that is your decision, you have wasted our time with all this hype.

Finally a HUGE yes to the Knicks. Yes, I want him to choose the Knicks. As a longtime suffering New Yorker, coming from a family of Knick fans, the idea of King James at MSG is completely appealing. Part of me wants to boycott this self-indulgent media circus but like a horrible train wreck, I just can’t look away.

There have been so many great articles written about this subject in the last few days. Here is a link to one of my favorites.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/09/sports/09leading.html

Tales from a Haight Cafe...

People’s Café 6/29/10 1-2pm

1419 Haight Street
Notes:

As I enter I feel suddenly relaxed. Warm colors, an open but cozy vibe. I stand in line behind only a few people. Most of the tables are taken. I snap a quick photo making sure not to capture anyone’s face.

An attractive guy behind the counter wearing a bowler hat appears. I order a Philly Cheese Steak and an ice tea.

I grab one of the last available tables. Centrally located but not ideal for people watching.

I scan the room and am pleasantly surprised. I figured the place would be full of dreads and patchouli because of its location but am happy to discover all walks of life.

The tables are glass with coffee beans inside. Clever.

I am sitting next to a group of three young guys. They have known each other for years. They use familiar tones and body language. They even dress alike. Skinny jeans, t-shirts, chucks. They talk about fishing, wake boarding, and how they should quit smoking. The one closest to me smells like cloves. The clove smelling one starts telling a story. It involves the EPIC summer of 97 and Zephyr Cove in South Lake Tahoe. After the 3^rd “dude,” I tune out.

My sandwich arrives and it smells amazing. Full of onions.

The spots along the walls are reserved for the hard-core laptopers. The only places with plugs. Mac’s rule the space. Lined up. Silver-plated glistening in the sun.

The tables in the middle are more social. Lunch dates between friends and colleagues.

To the right a girl in her mid 20’s sits playing with her new iphone. Uggs, blue blazer, she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else.

One of the hard-core laptopers sits frustrated, head in hands. Writer’s block? He stands up, stretches, and orders more coffee.

The man next to him looks exactly like Ray Romano. He types with purpose on his Mac, as if each letter is telling a story.

Some guy is complaining loudly about how he got the wrong sandwich but it didn’t stop him from eating half of it. The attractive barista, (Nathan) isn’t phased. He just smiles and tells the difficult guy he will replace it.

Two young guys enter. More skinny jeans. They look hung over. They order and sit next to me. The EPIC boys have thankfully left. They talk about how great it is to finally be able to order the “hangover special.” I was right. I am curious. I go up to the counter and look around. It doesn’t take long to spot the sign. Hangover Special – 10oz steak & eggs served with hash browns and toast. $10.95

I sit back down and smirk.

Two locals enter. Nathan knows them by name. Tattoos, messenger bags, nose piercings, sunnies clipped to their jeans. They order off the Vegan Menu. They sit directly behind me.

I get up to use the bathroom. It reminds me of CBGB’s. All red with graffiti. Made me feel angry. Too much red.

When I sit back down I discover that the locals behind me are talking about Nazis. Not sure the context. Not sure I want to know.

The lunch rush is over. Can finally hear the music. Distracted by Vampire Weekend’s, “The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance.”

I hear Nathan tell someone about the Happy Hour specials from 5-10 pm. Make a note to come back for it.

My phone buzzes. Words with Friends. I am now distracted. I take that as my cue to leave.

For more interesting cafe observations from talented writers/storytellers please go to:

http://hoodmapped.com/

Tales from a Sausalito Cafe

With inspiration from Grant McCracken and Russell Davies, a friend of mine has embarked on an interesting mission. He is starting a series of café observations by neighborhood and has invited others to pIay with him. He has also started a blog about it and I will provide a link at the end of this post. Please email me if you would like to participate.

I am really excited to collaborate on this café observation project. I relish any opportunity to people watch. I realize this is what I normally do anyway in my head; the only difference is now I am putting my thoughts to paper. I decided to go old school and leave my laptop at home. I figured the free Wi-Fi would be a distraction and I would be drawn to play on facebook or twitter, instead of focusing on what is going on around me. Scribbling my thoughts with a pen and paper while sipping my cup of earl grey, made me feel like a 50’s beatnik jotting down introspective poetry. Anyway here it goes…

Taste of Rome Cafe formally known as Café Trieste

6/24/10 1-2 pm

Notes:

I hear the mind numbing sound of hundreds of vuvuzelas.

I glance up at the counter and see two HD TV’s tuned loudly to the World Cup (Japan vs. Demark).

A man with a thick Italian accent stands behind the counter. He calls me Bella. I smile and order a cup of Earl Grey and Insalata Caprese.

Café is crowded, everyone seems glued to the game.

Bikers riding through town stop in. Sweaty and wearing too much spandex. They order iced coffees and grab a table outside.

The hot mamas brigade comes in next, struggling to fit the strollers through the door. There are three of them. They order non-fat lattes and gossip. 2 toddlers and one infant sleep soundly in their strollers.

Biker in a white Nike hoodie sits next to me. He places his sunnies on top of his head. Orders a strawberry smoothie and watches the game.

Buzz…

Older man in glasses and 80’s jean jacket recognizes a beautiful young French woman. They have a brief exchange. The French woman approaches me. Starts to speak French. I remember my new Amelie-like hair cut and respond in English. She tells me she likes my necklace. She smiles and dances away.

I am interrupted by my salad. Nike hoodie biker gets his pasta. It smells delicious.

A group of tourists walk in. SF sweatshirts and cameras blazing. They take photos.

A collective groan comes from the crowd. Japan just scored.

Man at the corner table looks like Bogart. He is wearing a fedora hat. He is hunched suspiciously over his computer. I get up to grab some napkins so I can peek at his screen. Extremely disappointed he is on Facebook.

Local man walks in. He looks like a silver fox. Shoulder length silver hair, white button down shirt, flip flops, age unknown. Everyone knows him. He is a legend here. He doesn’t order just sits down and his glass of red wine is brought to him. Everyone else orders at the counter. He sits down alone at a table for 4. I am intrigued. His name is Robert. I hear the bus boy call him that. I look at him a little too long. Oh no. He catches me. He smiles. I smile back but quickly look away.

A sleeve tatted Irish man enters. He has a shaved head. He is wearing all black. He scans the room for an out of the way table. He glances at his phone. He is waiting for someone.

A young woman enters with brilliant red hair. She is wearing a navy sundress with black converse. She has a Celtic tattoo on her back. She spots the Irish guy he rises to meet her. They embrace and sit down. I stop watching them. Feels like I am interrupting an intimate moment.

Italian man behind the counter is distracted by the game. The natives in line are growing restless.

The game is over. Final score Japan 3 Denmark 1.

The café seems to clear out after. The cool breeze from outside sweeps through the once crowded room.

Here is the link to my friend's Hoodmapped blog:

http://hoodmapped.com/

A Fabulous Non-Networking Event

A few weeks ago my college roommate invited me to a media-networking event. The organization shall remain nameless but their job is to help people connect and make contacts. Being a struggling freelancer seeking a steady gig, I was more than happy to accompany her to this particular networking happy hour. About an hour into the event I was able to make some key insights. The event might not have been the networking Mecca I envisioned but I sure had a blast!

5 Tips to help you realize that the “Networking” event you’re at won’t help you further your career.

You aren’t the only freelancer in the bunch. As you walk by to mingle you notice about half the room and people of all ages are toting the freelance title on their nametags.

Every time someone opens the door a bar full of women hopefully turn towards the entrance only to see more women enter the room.

You are then promptly sent to a dark and smelly basement designed specifically for your networking pleasure.

The only remotely interesting person you have spoken to besides the person you came with is about 22.

The event photographer has not only bought you and your best friend drinks, he has also made sure you are in almost every photo taken for the organization’s website.