The Corner of 28th and 3rd

I open the door on 28th and 3rd, and the aroma of brewing coffee touches my nose. I peak over to see someone reading today’s paper to my right. Two friends chatting to my left. College students completing their assignments in front of me. I scan the “NEW YORK” mugs and Colombian coffee beans aligned on the shelves. Cake pops, lemon pound cakes, croissants, egg bites, bagels, Perfect Bars and Hippeas on display. Ethos water and immunity drinks chilling in the fridge. Shortbread cookies and Kind bars next to the barcode scanners. Gift cards galore all around the cash registers.

My eyes feel droopy, as my body craves caffeine. I enter the line.

“Hi, Welcome to Starbucks. How are you?”

I’m great, how are you?

“Great. What can I get you?”

Venti Iced Coffee with almond milk, no sweetener please. Can I also have a cup of water?

“Of course. Sounds good. Scan whenever you’re ready.”

I reach down for my phone and hold out my Starbucks app that I recently filled with money. Although I try to purchase my coffee locally, there is something about my local Starbucks that draws me back there all the time. A familiarity, a feeling of comfort. Like this is my place.

“Thanks Yardayna. Also, your name is beautiful. Where is it from?”

Thank you so much. It’s Hebrew. My dad is Israeli.

“Wow. It’s really pretty. I love it. Have a good one, Yardayna.”

They know my name.

I wait at the counter as my coffee is being prepared. When the barista completes my order, she hands me my coffee and smiles subtly at me. I wish her a good day, and depart.

___________

The next day, I return. This time, I bring my laptop to do some work.

First thing’s first, I get in line, and a similar script as the one previous plays over. How are you, great how are you, what can I get you, scan please. Except this time, some things are different.

“Hi! How are you?”

I’m great, how are you?

“Great. What can I get you?”

Venti Iced Coffee with almond milk, no sweetener please.

“Sounds good. Would you like a cup of water with that?”

No, I’m okay. I say out loud. And I think: she remembered my order from yesterday.

“No problem. Scan whenever you’re ready.”

A few moments later, after I retrieved my coffee and parked myself at a table with my laptop, I notice a man on my right reading the newspaper and a woman to my left speaking on the phone. I give them both smiles, and then I immerse myself in my work.

Halfway through my Venti coffee, I need to use the restroom. I look over to the woman on my left:

Excuse me, do you mind watching over this while I run to the bathroom? I ask.

“Of course.”

I think: it’s so funny that we trust strangers to watch over our personal items when we leave for a few minutes, but that’s the feeling of camaraderie I have when I’m at my local Starbucks. A mutual trust and respect amongst the patrons.

After I exit the bathroom, one of the baristas walks past me.

“Everything OK, Yardayna?” She asks.

Yeah, thank you! I answer. And then I think:

This woman barely even knows me, yet she checks in on me and remembers my name hours after I ordered. Great hospitality training for the Starbucks employees, I think. But really, my local Starbucks has turned into a living room of sorts, everyone gathered in one environment, referencing each other on a first-name basis, sometimes there’s chaos and yelling, a microcosm for a familial gathering space.

I return to my seat, and I thank the woman next to me for watching over my items when I was gone.

I continue immersing myself into my work for a few minutes when the man on my right turns and starts speaking to me. He first points to The Post newspaper he is holding and begins telling me his thoughts on the article he is reading. He then continues speaking to me, going into detail about a recent court case he was recently involved in, and its final outcome. He’s getting lots of money after months of fighting. I engage with him because his stories are interesting, and in the back of my head I’m thinking it’s so cool and it’s so funny that we can sit alone with strangers and suddenly connect, becoming alone together.

A few moments later, I wish him farewell, and depart my local Starbucks.

__________

A couple days later, of course I return. I need my coffee. Enter the line, order, scan. Yet this time, the script is again a little bit different.

“I have to ask, what is the perfume that you’re wearing? It smells so good, I smelled it when you walked in. I’m always looking for a good perfume.”

Thank you so much. I respond. This is from Zara. It lasts so long, and it is less than half the price of a luxury perfume.

“Oh my gosh, I love it. Do you mind writing it down for me?”

Of course! And then I jot down Ebony Wood From Zara on the piece of scrap paper the barista handed to me.

“Thanks so much. Have a good one, Yardayna.”

You too, I respond.

Standing by the counter waiting for my coffee, I notice a woman with her golden-doodle leashed by her side. The dog approaches me and starts licking my legs. As a dog-lover, this makes my morning. I kindly ask the woman if I can pet her dog, and she grants me permission. The woman and I start discussing the wonders of owning a dog, how they are like a best friend, especially during the work-from-home era.

“Yardayna!” is called from behind the counter, and I retrieve my coffee. I thank the barista, wish the golden-doodle owner a good day, and I depart.

_________

My local Starbucks is such a special experience. First-name bases, memorized orders, friendly conversation, compliments, dogs, trust. A medley of feelings and experiences, right on the corner of 28th and 3rd. A place so corporate and repetitive has a hidden locality and distinction beneath it. My own living room down the street from me. A tiny feeling of comfort in the midst of a chaotic city. My local Starbucks.