Every time I went there, usually at night, it was fun to sit with my computer and watch people who are clearly suburbanites, look around, order their coffee and leave because it’s not quite the type of people the expect to frequent such a place.

My second story is waiting in line to order my coffee, and the guy in front of me say how much he liked the Jimi Hendrix they were playing when it was clearly The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

My third story is coming in late on a Friday night to read the book I just bought at Powell’s and two girls, clearly friends of the barista (who would probably hate being called that), one friend giving the other a tap dancing lesson.