Welcome to where the seeds of dreams are planted--where one can sip from the charmed chalice of life & meet interesting folk through (hopefully) intelligent conversation.

One never knows nor can expect who will sail into the fray--what we do know is that no soul here is perfect no matter how we try. So let us celebrate & raise our mugs to the idiosyncratic nature of life--to the Kramer's & Norm's of the world, the Roseanne's & Allan Poe's. Some old, some lost, some tortured, some blessed, all souls sharing a drink at the same time in the same place. The ensuing tales are authentic with names trending towards monikers. The flag waving on our doorstep means we're open, so come perk your curiosity in Le Harbor Bungalow Cafe.

Bonjour! Mesherfin! Hasta la vista! Your barista.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Potentially Reciprocating

Racing along Interstate 70 into the Big Crabcake, our barista returned from a Thanksgiving excursion tardy for his afternoon shift at le Harbor Bungalow Cafe.  Mother-of-barista tightly gripped the handle of the passenger side door.  The barista weaved through traffic behind the steering wheel of father-of-barista's SUV while simultaneously leaving Jennifer a voice mail she will not hear until our barista is next to her behind the coffee bar.  An ordinary day it was not to be.

Our barista certainly enjoys a cup of coffee, but never really has he considered himself much of a coffee binge drinker.  That self-perception may change after he nearly housed an entire 80-ounce carafe of joe during his thirteen-and-a-half hour shift Saturday afternoon, evening, night and early morning. Patrons looking to satisfy their munchies and/or caffiine fix were denied entry into their favorite coffee house as beatmaker, engineer, deejay Luis Guanzon rented le Harbor Bungalow Cafe to film a music video.

"I'm Not Her Type" is the title of the song Luis penned for singer-guitarist Julian Roso.  An acoustic guitar-driven pop song about a barista being jilted by a fellow co-ed barista.  Julian, predictably playing the lead role in the video, sported an apron bearing the coffee house's name--an apron our barista is not required to sport.  An apron designed for this special occasion. Luis and his crew worked from dawn until the early hours of Sunday morning.   Jennifer closed her cafe on the production's behalf at noon.  Immediately, le Harbor Bungalow Cafe was occupied by about a dozen cameras, three awkward, craning spotlights, vats of chili, spaghetti and pasta sauce and enough actors, deejays, extras, and hangers-on to fill every seat in the shop.  Word around the cafe was that Luis had a few video shoots on his resume.  The gang worked professionally, seemingly with a plan, illustrating his experience.

"We began shooting around the harbor at sunrise," Luis explained to the barista part way through the production. "The sky looked great, but man we've been at it all day."  Luis and his crew called upon our barista to give his actors a crash course on the espresso machine, provide realistic props, prepare multiple gingerbread-white chocolate lattes and offer his expertise on how to stay energized through 1 a.m.  The barista enjoyed the change of pace to his work day--however long it may be--and was grateful for the day's job perks.

“Hey man, you wanna beer?” one of the extras asked the barista—who earlier allowed the group to discreetly indulge in the libations, as the H.B.C. was closed for business.

“Thanks, but...not many people know this, I’ve been drinking Irish coffee most of the day.” 

The group giggled in surprise.

The barista was grateful for many things this week of Thanksgiving: turkey, health, family, dreams, popcorn…but this fine day Jennifer topped the list.  As far as bosses go, Jennifer bakes the cake.  Not only did she give him the music video shift, but she took twenty bucks from the morning’s tip jar and sent him out the door to make his coffee Irish that afternoon.   She apologized for the unexpected overtime, but the 2 a.m. punch-out loomed only as a minor inconvenience for our barista, as he can walk to his doorstep in ninety seconds from where le Harbor Bungalow Café’s OPEN flag waves.  (Well, unless its rush hour and metal automobiles clog the street he needs to cross.  That Saturday night/Sunday morning he only had to avoid the police or ambulance sirens along with the drunks micturating in his alley.)

Our barista is also grateful that Jennifer puts up with his penchant for posting stories that happen at her coffee house on his creative nonfiction online blog.  She is used to attention, especially after running the business for over five years and raising two kids, but not attention of this sort.

"If there is something you don't want me to write just tell me it's off the record," the barista assures his boss.

"My whole life is off the record," she replied...in jest, the barista surmised.

But just as Luis' music video production has the potential to increase interest and business at the coffee house, Le Harbor Bungalow Cafe holds the potential to drive red eyes and taste buds into her cozy, quaint coffee and pastry shop.  Now after reading this blog, aren't you craving a slice of pumpkin cheesecake?  Wouldn't a warm, creamy, spiced chai latte stretch your weary eyes about now?  Tell me you're not drooling.  Tell me you wouldn't like to visit--and chat with Squeaky.  Tell me you wouldn't like to feed Fister Mishy.

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