There's this coffee shop.
It has no name, it's called coffee I think. Yep just "Coffee."
On the corner of Mountain and something (8th St.) it sneaks up on you. I discovered it a while driving from Albuquerque's old town back home I think. A midst all these old style Albuquerque homes it pops out suddenly and you just keep bottle-necking as you drive by--your eyes fixed on the blue and red trim and the promise of it being the best cup of coffee you'll ever discover. That's the hope you have with every coffee shop isn't it though? Maybe this time, it will be the best coffee you've had so far.
That's what the sign says on it in the front anyway--"Coffee." No clever names, nothing complicated, nothing extraterrestrial like our very own
Satellite, neither does it attempt to be godlike similar to the other S word. (It's a word I'm careful not to bring up so that I don't offend.) Just straight to the punch, as if to say "this is what we sell, this is all we sell, we are good at it, and you will love it." That's the bait, the appeal. It's what drew me in and it's the kind of thing that gets you hooked--that and the red and blue trim.
At first, it seems like it used to be a house, but it used to be a gas station really. There is an old postcard on the front of the espresso machine inside with a picture of the place when long ago it used to advertise 7 up big and proud on its fuel pumps. Who drinks 7 up anymore anyway?
I had to take someone else there just to make sure it was real. Yes, it seems too far away and magical to be a real place. It seemed to only exist in a romanticized Albuquerque. Me and my buddy Sam are fans of coffee and conversations and I had a reason to go there one friday. (Long story short: The guy that owns the place hired me to paint a house next door and he owed me money--I make friends easily.) Sam and drove there and walked in.
It's weird to see one of your friends in a different context that your not used to being in together. I had been going there to paint a house for a couple of days--for the owner who also owns a tile-making company--you see. I knew I was still sane and in the same city because I could see the one building closest to a skyscraper we boast about here in the biggest city in NM. But the day I took Sam there was different. It was slightly rainy though not cold. It was a perfect day to sit outside and drink a cup of Joe and have a conversation. There was a literal rainbow across the way from us. We were facing West sitting outside the quaint little establishment. We were surrounded by beautiful New Mexico-style homes with flowers all over the front yards. A man walked up to me and handed me a hundred dollars. Looking over to Sam I asked "Are we in the same city? Did we go to some far away land and end up here somehow? Is this Narnia?"
Ok I didn't ask if this was Narnia. But a man
did walk up to me and give me a hundred dollars. He owed me money for painting the house across the way. It was one of those times where for some reason it becomes more real when another person in your life takes in the experience with you. It's like when I went to the grand canyon, I had to take a double take and look over to make sure my sister and dad were seeing the same thing I was.
The coffee is quite good. The espresso drinks are amazing. There are bagels. And of course there are free refills. I asked the barista if there were and he replied with, "What do you think this is, a Nazi concentration camp? Of course they're free." He used more colorful language. So there you go. It's a place where they consider other places inferior for not offering free coffee refills. Take note
Satellite and
Starbucks.
It's open 7 to noon everyday. There is live music on Sundays. There are some great people that work there and frequent the place. Many of them are artists looking to talk about anything and everything. It has a warm neighborhood atmosphere where people are happy to meet you and talk to you. People are pretty genuine here. I like it.
