This is a snippet of a much larger, more cynical blog I wrote some time ago. I'm posting it because it seemed like a bit too much to put in the comments section of Dustin's blog.
February 8, 2005
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. Good times.