Yeah, not much has changed...not Panama City or my opinion of it.
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February 8, 2005V says that I must continue to keep my blog because I'm ever so entertaining (Although not always intentional). Now I'm pretty sure she's actually talking about things like my earlier performance of Back that Ass Up where I bumped myself downstairs, but today we're going to focus on occurrences that I truly have no control over. Mainly, other people.
A couple of days ago, I'm sitting at Starbucks with my mom, pondering the cultural study that Starbucks is. Here's the thing. I was always seduced by Starbucks before, but I became completely addicted in London. I lived with seven other people including two very stinky boys and two slightly loud girls. If the smell didn't run me out, then the fact that I had the fifth year of Harry Potter (Just released Bloomsbury edition, thank you very much.) that HAD TO BE READ. I couldn't do that with the smell and the noise and the yuck. Luckily, that whole thing about there being two Starbucks on every corner is actually true in London. So everyday I'd grab by humongoid, brightly colored HP book and head down the block, past the beloved Apple Store to my favorite Starbucks. Upon entering, I immediately forgot that I lived in a flat that smelled like a big poot (except for my corner which consistently smelled of cotton blossom, lavender, and marshmallow) as the wonderful aroma of COFFEE hit me. Sweet, sultry, sensual, crisp, foamy, wonderful coffee. I grabbed my tall nonfat caramel macchiato and the absolutely heavenly double chocolate muffin and headed up the stairs to where I could sit and watch the second floor passengers of double decker buses float by the window. But here's the thing...the people. A normal mix of normal people - Teenagers, twenty-somethings, middle aged, businessmen, tourists.
Now flash forward to Tallahassee. I swore I wasn't going to cheat on Aristotle's. I'm all about small business. I'm all about unique. But something had happened to my favorite coffee garage while I was gone. The hippies, normal people, and grad students had been replaced by Greeks. No, not the kind from the awesome independent movie that became a blockbuster about a big, fat wedding but the kind who....you know what I'm not even going to try to describe them...they're not worth that much mental energy on my part. Let's just say I spent 3/4 of my college career studying them for Student Publications and they reek of BS. So now my cool alternative music was drowned out by the steady loop of giggles and "Oh My God"s that follow around carbon-copied sorority girls. But worse than that, even the bar staff changed. The music began to change. So all this coupled with Starbucks withdrawals led me to the new Starbucks that just happened to be only a couple of blocks from my apartment. Oh, beautiful world. This Starbucks was filled with the same kind of people: businessmen, students, wedding planners and brides, families - Normal people (By my standards, of course).
So what's the point? Well, I could complain about how half the barristas in Panama City think a Caramel Macchiato is a Caramel Latte (Yes, there is a difference. I'll discuss that later.) But for this study, we're going to focus on the people. I've found that if you go in the PC Starbucks during the day you actually do get a glimpse of business people. But after 2pm, it becomes overwhelmingly two social groups: high schoolers and red necks. So the entire point of this entry. I'm looking at the group of car-clubbers outside, the table of teenagers to my left, and the "Missing Teeth" family directly in front of me and I say to my mom, "You know you can build the same building, decorate it the same, fill it with the same product, and yet in Panama City it becomes something completely different." The words are still hanging over the lemon cake sitting between us when they are cut by a glass bottle. A glass bottle that flies through my words, over the cake, past my face, and crashes into the wall behind me leaving a pile of glass at my feet. Yes, people, I almost lost my head at the Panama City Starbucks, literally. Only me. Only I could go to Starbucks and have a glass bottle thrown at my head. Well, me and the guy sitting next to me. But all's well that end's well, right. :0)
A couple of days ago, I'm sitting at Starbucks with my mom, pondering the cultural study that Starbucks is. Here's the thing. I was always seduced by Starbucks before, but I became completely addicted in London. I lived with seven other people including two very stinky boys and two slightly loud girls. If the smell didn't run me out, then the fact that I had the fifth year of Harry Potter (Just released Bloomsbury edition, thank you very much.) that HAD TO BE READ. I couldn't do that with the smell and the noise and the yuck. Luckily, that whole thing about there being two Starbucks on every corner is actually true in London. So everyday I'd grab by humongoid, brightly colored HP book and head down the block, past the beloved Apple Store to my favorite Starbucks. Upon entering, I immediately forgot that I lived in a flat that smelled like a big poot (except for my corner which consistently smelled of cotton blossom, lavender, and marshmallow) as the wonderful aroma of COFFEE hit me. Sweet, sultry, sensual, crisp, foamy, wonderful coffee. I grabbed my tall nonfat caramel macchiato and the absolutely heavenly double chocolate muffin and headed up the stairs to where I could sit and watch the second floor passengers of double decker buses float by the window. But here's the thing...the people. A normal mix of normal people - Teenagers, twenty-somethings, middle aged, businessmen, tourists.
Now flash forward to Tallahassee. I swore I wasn't going to cheat on Aristotle's. I'm all about small business. I'm all about unique. But something had happened to my favorite coffee garage while I was gone. The hippies, normal people, and grad students had been replaced by
So what's the point? Well, I could complain about how half the barristas in Panama City think a Caramel Macchiato is a Caramel Latte (Yes, there is a difference. I'll discuss that later.) But for this study, we're going to focus on the people. I've found that if you go in the PC Starbucks during the day you actually do get a glimpse of business people. But after 2pm, it becomes overwhelmingly two social groups: high schoolers and red necks. So the entire point of this entry. I'm looking at the group of car-clubbers outside, the table of teenagers to my left, and the "Missing Teeth" family directly in front of me and I say to my mom, "You know you can build the same building, decorate it the same, fill it with the same product, and yet in Panama City it becomes something completely different." The words are still hanging over the lemon cake sitting between us when they are cut by a glass bottle. A glass bottle that flies through my words, over the cake, past my face, and crashes into the wall behind me leaving a pile of glass at my feet. Yes, people, I almost lost my head at the Panama City Starbucks, literally. Only me. Only I could go to Starbucks and have a glass bottle thrown at my head. Well, me and the guy sitting next to me. But all's well that end's well, right. :0)
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