The Only Vibrant Coffee Shop on the Upper West Side

Georgia's, the last coffee shop within thirty blocks of my apartment, happens to be on the next corner up from my very own door. I love it there. It started out as a small bakery with no chairs and very little elbow room, squished between the displaced barber shop and a t-mobile (another one). Slowly, through dedicated patronage from the remaining Upper West neighborhood set, it became incredibly successful, and when the symbol of the decline of my neighborhood closed, it valiantly and incredibly managed to take it over and become a real shop with a few small tables. Today, it sprawls over the whole corner of Broadway, and its quaint tables spill out onto the street. There a couple of truly wonderful things about Georgia's:

1) it is a coffee shop
2) it has decent coffee
3) the waiters will let you sit there for hours - it can be, at times, near impossible to actually get your check, which is an anomaly most definitely

Unfortunately, like all things good in my once deli-filled neighborhood, Georgia's too is slowly losing that which makes it truly unique: it is becoming a restaurant.

Yes, a restaurant - just like your average brunch place on Amsterdam Avenue, or the aptly retitled "Bloomingdale Road"(the once and well mourned Boulevard Restaurant of my youth, totally redone with a WASPy makeover - the mural of a diverse and slightly crude New York City subway platform long gone forever). This means that soon, it will lose all three of the above qualities which make it my monument to what the Upper West Side could be if it got rid of a few banks.

I realized I had never, as yet, really used Georgia's as a real coffee shop - I hadn't sat there reading or typing on my computer or sipping coffee leisurely by myself perusing the Times. I had certainly gone there for a cup of coffee and chatted for hours with friends, but never alone and never for writing. And ultimately, the reason I love coffee shops so much is that it is a chance to sit with my laptop and get some writing done without forgoing human interaction - I can be solitary but not alone. Coffee shops were my great savior on my loneliest days out west - I'd grab my computer or my book and head over to Philz or Revolution or anywhere, really, and suddenly I'd be surrounded by people who loved the ambiance as much as I did. And we were connected, through coffee and work and folk music over the speakers.

So, I decided that before Georgia's goes the way of my deli, I should at least try to sit there with my computer.

I was confident that I wouldn't look totally bizarre, since I'd seen people by themselves at Georgia's before - the small coffee tables are perfectly conducive to singledom, but are more frequently occupied by multiple people, increasingly with food. But I went early, when I was sure I wouldn't take a table from a lunch customer, and brought my laptop and got to it.

I felt pretty weird at first - I sat down at a table outside, and realized that sitting outside in the West Village or in the East Village or really anywhere else is not like sitting outside on Broadway, with all of the morning traffic and rush hour madness passing at top speed. It's a weird feeling - watching other people who are not prepared for you to be there looking askance and walking faster. Broadway, the street of theatrical energy, is not for idle coffee and computers.

On top of that, the early morning crowd was peopled with young mothers and their very young children, having a chocolate croissant and a chance to breath for a moment. I, a single 23 year old on my beat up laptop and sweatshirt about to head off to her low-paying theater job, don't exactly jive with the vibe.

But I got over it. It was lovely out. And my part of Broadway really is one of the most beautiful in the whole city, with pre-war buildings and wide sidewalks - it's a pity there aren't open air cafes everywhere because it is a singular experience, watching the cars go by and all that space to stroll up and down. And my coffee was warm and my quiche was damn good and I'm not married or pregnant and that feels pretty fucking good too. And I got some work done. And I used Georgia's the way, in a perfect world, I would use it all the time. I don't think I'll go back there with the same purpose - I've found an early morning place close to work that I can go to that is actually a coffee shop, and I'd rather not make passersby any more nervous than they already are. But it felt good, like I was taking back a little piece of my neighborhood.

A Taste Of San Francisco

I've found my San Francisco coffee shop.

I actually found it awhile ago, but I wanted to wait until I was sitting in it, with my computer and a cup of coffee, to actually write about it. It just felt fitting - just like old times.

So here I am! Cup of coffee, listening to the speakers play folk music quietly, little cafe table supporting my amateur writing, little wrought iron chair supporting my body. I love this place.

The first time I came here, I almost cried. During work that day, I had decided to go explore later that evening (after all, responsibility and boundaries do not impede adventure), and so had yelped "coffee shop" and "west village" and come up with a little place called Grounded on Jane Street. So I figured, what the hell, why not.

The moment I walked in, I knew I had found my spot. True, it is 75 blocks from my apartment, and probably about 20 from my work, but Uptown beggars cannot be choosers, and I am lucky enough to have stumbled in here one hot July evening. I stood on the red concrete floor and stared in wonder at the multicolored chalk on the hanging blackboards, and the couches and people on their laptops for the free wifi and the vegan cookies and thought, oh my god I'm back in San Francisco.

I walked up to the counter and asked for coffee and then, not being able to help myself

Lil: "This place is amazing."
Guy: "Oh. Thanks!"
Lil: "It reminds me of San Francisco."
Guy: "Yeah, I guess that was kind of the vibe we were going for."
Lil: "I think I'm going to cry."
Guy: ...

I restrained myself, but just barely. I really did feel euphoric. I sat down to read on the red velvet couch and realized my search had come to an end. Sure, there would be more coffee shops, sure I would continue to explore, but now I had a coffee home base.

And here I am again. And again. My buddy the barista remembers me - that practically makes me a regular. Today I learned the other barista's name and pretty soon I'll be coming in with a "hey!" and so I have found my little piece of SF haven in New York's kickin' Chelsea neighborhood.

I think that's pretty cool.

Making Up For Lost Time

I went to Brooklyn yesterday.

Wait, let me start over.

On Saturday night, I swung by Mike's bar to say hi and hang out. As I was leaving, Analise and Leta showed up, so I stuck around for another hour or so. During which time, I was made fun of for being a WASP from the Upper West Side who never went to Brooklyn in high school except for

volleyball games, and never went to Queens except for funerals.

And I thought I was Jewish...

Well, let me say that I am amending my ways. Part of the problem when I was growing up was that I lived uptown, went to school uptown, and everyone I knew hung out uptown. So there was never any point in going south of 14th street - no one would've been there. Well, the tables have turned, and now I know almost nobody who lives north of 42nd street, and none of us can afford to hang out up here anyway, so we all get on the subway and head downtown and into the outer boroughs in the hopes that we can go out, drink, eat maybe, and still be able to pay rent at the end of the month.

Besides, I am eager to explore.

I really like Brooklyn immensely. It reminds me of San Francisco, with its shorter buildings and neighborhood feel - hipsters and immigrants and families who have been there forever. I started closer to the water, but have been edging my way east. And yesterday, it was Prospect Heights.

I went to see Leta and Analise's apartment, and to get coffee. It was actually a working date, which was really exciting for a variety of reasons. Talking about the work again, in and of itself, made me grateful to be back in a city that encourages art, pushes artists, and serves as home base for our company.

But the main perk was visiting their abode. They live in a third floor walk up, with wooden stairs and banister, and a view over the building's backyard (another San Francisco reminder). The apartment winds around, with two doors opening onto the landing. Mattresses on the floor and a fire escape stairwell where they all drank wine last week. Lucky.

The best part, however, was that we got brunch - coffee and eggs benedict with salmon - for 12.50 each (including tax). Seriously. It was friendly, well decorated. And our waiter was super cute. Uptown Manhattan has got nothing on that.

I'm really not as ignorant of Brooklyn as I pretend to be, and I'm making a concerted effort to get out to Queens. It's really the Bronx that I don't know at all. Pat is moving to Brooklyn in the fall, so I need to make sure I get up to his part of town before he vacates. And I've never even set foot on Staten Island.

There's just so much city.

The Search for the Perfect Coffee Shop

Even if San Francisco had been a total hole in the wall city, I could have loved it for the coffee shops alone. I spent endless hours in Philz and Revolution Cafe, drinking so much sweetened caffeine that my hands began to buzz and I lost feeling in my feet. The atmosphere in these places is beautiful - places to sit, low-key people hanging out, live music sometimes - really they were neighborhood hang outs. But the truly wonderful thing about them was the free wi-fi. I'd lug my computer the few short blocks from my house on the days that I'd work from home, and find myself in good company. I never worried that I was taking up space, or being gauche (because really, is anything gauche in SF?), and so there'd I'd be for hours, working, writing long emails, and of course, drinking really great coffee. It was like out of a fantasy of mine, a kind of early 90s Seattle vision that I had created which I was sure had to be defunct if it had ever even existed in the first place. One of my greatest concerns in returning to New York was that I wouldn't be able to find a simple coffee place with free wi-fi where I could just sit and work for hours.

It turns out my fears were justified. I have a feeling that the vast majority of my exploration will be motivated by the search for the East Coast equivalent of coffee heaven.

It's not that New York is lacking in coffee shops - in comparison to SF, of course, but not in general. It's that the Upper West Side is a waste land. I went online to a site called http://ilovefreewifi.com/manhattan/ which shows a map of Manhattan and little flags where all the coffee shops are. My neighborhood is pathetically blank. I also visited http://www.wififreespot.com/ny.html and http://cupofnyc.com/ which, though lacking the aggressive visual aid, were no more promising. I ended up on yelp.com which gave me some more detail but I was still faced with the sad truth.

So I sucked it up and hopped the 1.

I ventured to West 125th street and then strolled down Amsterdam in the blinding heat to a place called Max Cafe. I walked in and was pretty intimidated at first, since it was definitely a restaurant. But I glanced over and saw people with laptops and iced coffee, and I figured they couldn't all be wrong. So, I sat down and joined them.

It was really nice. Free wi-fi, decent coffee, and I sat there for three hours on only one drink. They also have beer and wine and food, which is definitely cool. It feels a little formal, but I got over it. And, I mean, it's not cheap, which sucks, but then again, I'm in Manhattan. Short of jumping onto the 7 and heading out towards Queens, I'm not sure how much less expensive it will get. Of course, now that the parks have wi-fi, I could always just brew my own and head East for thirty minutes before my old computer dies on me.

But that would kind of defeat my purpose.