The Great and Fantastical Coffee Shop Tour of the World

In thinking about what the heck to do with my life, I stumbled upon something...

My favorite part of the day is drinking coffee and doing a crossword puzzle with my favorite blue pen.

Simple pleasures.

So, screw graduate school, screw writing a great literary masterpiece and having lots of minions who worship me and screw conforming to corporate demands and screw philosophical ramblings and always wanting unattainable knowledge and never having satisfaction. Screw it all!

I just wanna take my show on the road, find only the very finest java-brewing establishments in the country (and, eventually, the world), and do crossword puzzles all the damn day long.

I am no coffee connoisseur. I don't really care if it's mild or medium or with a hint of oak or ash or mocha or whatever the hell it is that the high-falutin' coffee elitists hold up as their standard.

All I care is that it is caffeinated and resembles some sort of coffee-like beverage and I'm good to go.

Yep.

I realize there's a bit of a coffee shop stereotype that is floating around out there...something about moody intellectuals or yuppie-haunts or a conspiracy formulated to take over America one street corner at a time with mermaid cups and frappucinos...

That's all a bunch of bullshit.

If you have to point the accusatory finger, then there is no hope for you. The Great and Fantastical Coffee Shop Tour of the World is not about any of that.

The GaFCSTotW transcends all stigma and all stereotypes-meant-to-wound.

It is about the way the smell clings to my hair and clothes when I leave the place. It is about the remarkable simplicity of the entire thing: water over grounds. It is about the smell of tea and coffee and milk and vanillacaramelgingerbreadchocolate in my nose and head as I fill in my little crossword squares.

I have set the home base of The GaFCSTotW in Livermore. Panama Bay (now "Panama Red" due to legalish-y things that I know not the details of, but in any case, I do not acknowledge the new nomenclature).

This place got me through high school. It began my habit. Squishy leather chairs and a crazy-awesome gingerbread latte are some of the main distinguishing features of PB. Also of interest are: the ever-changing artistry of the chalk board, live mus-ac, and a damn good cookie.

Yes. Panama Bay. The unquestionable origin of all coffee-related things in my life. I start there and always will I end there.

So, from this jumping point, with many future Kerouac-ian voyages in my heart (sans the hallucinogens), I hereby commence a great many adventure in caffeination for my future.

Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!

Cheers!