Baby, it's cold outside

I regularly bring some work with me to the Starbucks at Chestnut Street and 19th, a few blocks from my house. They have particularly cheerful baristas and a loft with comfortable chairs and tables. The loft is often full of scads of well-dressed college students alongside homeless people who have found a warm reprieve and rest. I like this Starbucks because no one is ever asked to leave, whether or not they are paying customers. The weather took a sharp turn today and it is bitter cold outside. No snow yet, but the wind is piercing. There is a woman sitting across from me, a worn Bible in her lap, and she has wedged herself comfortably into the corner of a big chair, eyes closed, shoulders twitching in sleep. On occasion she paws around her lap for the bag of chips that sits precariously at her side. Breakfast of champions.

I stupidly (intentional adverb) used to refer to Starbucks as 'the man.' And while it is ridiculous that franchises are taking over the world, I have softened my verbage. When I was in the Doi Sutep Mountains in Thailand a few years ago, I drank coffee with villagers who sell their coffee to Starbucks, fair trade, and it seems that the whole enterprise is legit, improving the lives of the community. So, I toast my Americano to thee, O Starbucks. Thanks for providing some warmth and comfort for some folks.