The Worst Coffee Shop
A version of this essay was previously shared on thatsrandomkate.blogspot.com October 19, 2013
In the vein of those helpful and hip blog posts that highlight the best coffee shops in Los Angeles to sit down and pen your first hit screenplay, I’d like to suggest one that might be the worst.
I don’t make it a daily habit to buy coffee out. I drink it black and hearty like a beast, and realistically I need caffeine to get out of the house in the first place, so it just makes sense to brew a cup of my own. Plus, I’m not raking in the millions yet and you can’t read any type of financial responsibility article without coming across facts about how much money we waste at Starbucks. I listen.
But occasionally I run out of coffee. And then sometimes I specifically go to the store to refill my stash and then forget it anyway. When that happens I end up having to walk the half block from my apartment to Hollywood Boulevard where they sell some of that good stuff.
I usually cross the street for Coffee Bean because it seems like the most exotic choice for the neighborhood, but on this day I had already gone once at 8 AM and I didn’t really want to go back at 2:30 PM just in case anyone recognized me. I don’t need any judgments about my two-a-days, whether those judgments are fiscal or addiction-related.
It’s unlikely that I would be recognized because I was wearing a different outfit but I had on the same groggy face, so you just never know.
To Starbucks, I went. This particular Starbucks, which is about 100 feet from my apartment, is quaintly situated below Madame Tussauds wax museum. This is also next to the $10 store where everything is actually $5 as shouted at you by underaged boys pumping signs on sticks in your face.
Of course, all of these delightful storefronts are right along the boulevard where people dress up as Hollywood characters and beg for cash in exchange for photographs from tourists.
This spot is usually hot, might be more polluted than the rest of Hollywood if that’s possible, has roughly one million tourists to duck and run through at any given time, and the dance music blasting from Madame Tussauds is louder than any nightclub in the world which I know because I’ve been to them all or at least enough to know.
I’m not sure how many tables there are outside of Starbuck’s because I couldn’t see straight from the aggressive noise level, but my best estimate is that there is one.
One table that could be the absolute worst coffee shop table in the city to write at.
However, one criticizing must retain perspective.
For the Hollywood Blvd walker, drunk on dreams and thirsty for caffeine, this Starbucks arrives at the perfect moment. In the perfect decimal to keep up the pace.
In closing, I know that it looks like Madame Tussauds is spelled wrong, but it’s not. I checked.