I don’t live in a shabby place either. I live on the bay, surrounded by water and lots of tan boys that workout making for wonderful eye candy. The people here are pretty cool as well – real. If you ask any re-locator how they like it here, you’ll get the most enthusiastic answer imaginable. “Hell yeah, it’s like being on permanent vacation! Whoo!” Yes, sometimes they do sound that excited. For those folks that grew up around here, the answer is a little different. It’s simply “Nope!” Or at least that's most of the natives I've encountered. But seriously, it's not so bad. It’s just one of those cities that’s taking their sweet ass time catching on to cultural trends. Even with the new found patience that I encompass, I can't help but want more.
As I currently sit in a local coffee shop (okay, Starbucks because we only have one cool coffee shop and it’s across town and I don’t feel like fighting with traffic) working on my next art party, I’m reminded of this awesome coffee shop I use to frequent in New England called Haymarket Café. It was hidden because all the best ones are and full of artsy fartsy people like myself.
My routine went like this: First stop; visit the record shop and purchase new tunes. Second stop; visit the art or bookstore depending on the mood of the day. Then I hit Haymarket for a few hours of hanging out with hipsters that didn’t act like hipsters. It had this “check your attitude at the door please” mentality. I made friends every time I went into that place, which is weird for New Englanders because most of them like to keep you at arm's length for several months before they let you in.
This arms-length business was frustrating to me at first; it didn’t mesh well with my personality. I’m one of those people who get annoyingly excited about making new friends to the point of freaking folks out. These northerners didn’t know what hit them. “Whoa, back off girl…you’re stepping into my personal space, which consists of a 1 yard radius of my body.” I caught on though, played their little game and eventually I grew on them.
The folks that hung out at Haymarket were the exception to that for the most part, welcomed it even. Going there became a routine for me during the 2-year stint that I lived there. And the coffee…good God! It was better than Dunkin’ Donuts, which is pretty damn good. Some days I would walk right up to the good lookin' barista guy with the black rimmed glasses and say, “I’d like a spanking please!” That's the name of their best smoothie! Haymarket Cafe is definitely one of the many reasons why I consider New England a place worth moving back to.
Instead, I’m sitting at the Starbucks around the corner from my place and witnessing far too many men in plaid pants.
