Letter to a Coffee Shop

Dear Queen Bean,

I know it had been several months since I dropped by for coffee, but imagine my surprise when I discovered how quickly things had changed in so short a time.

First off, let me tell you awesome it was to be hassled by your Security. As a five-foot, two inch female, nothing makes me feel as badass as being jostled on my way to hear an outdoor piano duet. I felt hardcore! Like a gangster. I was planning on purchasing dinner at the Bean but such a friendly greeting made me step up my game. I wanted something lighter, in case I got the opportunity to engage in a bar fight precipitated by aggro covers of Elton John songs.

I also really appreciated waiting twenty minutes in line while my friends started the show without me. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder! My simplistic, expensive drink was surely sweeter for having to stand that long on my arthritic legs. I could have sat down to enjoy the show while I waited for the line to die down, but I’m sure this made my drink taste all the more better since I had to work for it.

And let me tell you how much I appreciated the selection of beverages and food you had to offer! I know the sandwiches looked like they were served on plain hotdog buns, but since you were charging $7.00 for them, I’m sure they were the most exquisite hot dog buns money could buy.

If there’s one thing I love when going into a place of business, it’s feeling like I have the owner’s attention. Boy, did I ever! I couldn’t turn around without bumping into a sign that told me that only paying customers were allowed to enter the establishment, see a live show, use the bathroom, access the shitty WiFi, or ask questions. It would have been perfect if I were into being dominated.

Another great aspect of your shop is the service. You can tell only cool people go to the Queen Bean because only cool people are willing to be ignored for ten minutes while the baristas talk amongst themselves when you’re ready to order. I’m sure that keeps out all the riff-raff that don’t have time to bask in the coolness of your coffee shop.

Art by my talented friend Jose

As a girl who loves nothing more than vintage, you can imagine how thrilled I was to sit in old, and desperately in need of repair lawn furniture while I sipped my expensive drink and listened to my live music. I love that the table I sat at had loose tiles. So authentically trashy chic! You nailed it, Queen Bean. Bravo.

In closing, let me state that your coffee shop witnessed the end of an era as Stefalynda played their last show ever there. I have been going to see my friends play for years and years, and my experience at your shop was definitely the most memorable I’ve ever had. I will always remember, for example, how you told my friends to end their show at 10 p.m. sharp, and how less than five minutes later you turned the patio lights on and off several times to get our attention. The message was clear: go home now because we desperately want to keep your business.

Yes, we were in no danger of becoming overwhelmed by those warm, teary feelings you have when one of your best friends in the whole world is moving away. We could have been lamenting Stefalynda’s last show but instead we were distracted by your efforts to close up for the night. Well played, Queen Bean, well played.