A Kiosk Does Not A Coffee Shop Make

Dear Friends -

I am afraid the Del Rio situation is more dire than I initially feared. You have heard me rant about the lack of my favorite chain establishments. No Target - that was bad. No Starbucks - absolutely devastating, particularly since I have practically lived at Starbucks in San Antonio for the last four months (I have even hit several different Starbucks in a single day, as I try not to make a habit out of eating both breakfast and lunch at the same place). I tried to convince myself that being inundated with Starbucks in San Antonio would be enough to carry me through the upcoming Starbucks drought. And anyway, it is true that Starbucks was not quite as enticing this summer, without its Orange Mocha Frappuccino and all (Mint Mocha Chip Frap instead? Isn't that, like, a Christmas drink? I don't get the summer debut). I told myself that surely there were some good local places. I can adapt.

Last week, I went in search of the local places. It began with a search on my iPhone for WiFi locations, as we did not yet have internet at our house. This was much more difficult than I could have possibly imagined. I managed to find only a couple of places that had it. Aside from the T-Mobile store itself, the list was strictly limited to hotels. What did this mean for me? Squatting at the Ramada for four hours. I felt like a damn stowaway, hiding out in their upstairs sitting room at the little desk there. I kept waiting for someone to call me out on the fact that I was not a guest (although I did enjoy their breakfast buffet for two days in a row, just in case I was questioned). I escaped unscathed, but I still felt a little sneaky. Unlike theater hopping in high school, my stealthiness did not come accompanied by the glow of "getting away with it." Instead, I just felt . . . well, sad.

But I was not giving up. I had read months before on a chat site during my internet search of whether a Starbucks would ever make its way to Del Rio that there was some place in the town called "Coffee Now." It's simple. It gets the point across. Local is very often just as good, if not better than the big corporate giant. I was optimistic, especially since the poster had poo-pooed Starbucks and said he was a "loyal Coffee Now patron." So I looked up Coffee Now in Google, found the address, and began my search. Funny thing, though - I went back and forth on the street it was supposed to be on a few times, craning my neck to look at every strip mall I saw. Nope. No Coffee Now. Luckily, the listing I found had a phone number. So I called. You never know how long these things stay in business. A cheerful young woman answered right away. Phew! I asked for the cross streets.

And then I went back along the same road. And then it occurred to me why Coffee Now had escaped my notice. It wasn't a store front. It was a damn kiosk, like those Kodak photo labs in the 80's. There wasn't a seat in sight, not even a couple of folding camping chairs in the parking lot. Instead of Coffee Now, for me this realization was more like "Serenity Now!!!"

Welcome to my nightmare.

Fish Out of Water

After being in denial for the past four months that I have officially left Washington, D.C., I finally got a good glimpse of what my new life will be like in Del Rio, Texas (pop. 40,000). Shawn, Shawn's dad, and I started unpacking the new boxes in our lovely new home in our new town. I have to say that the house really is beautiful. I seriously lucked out in marrying someone with similar taste. And I think when we have it all landscaped, it will be a wonderful haven.

The problem for me is the town. 40,000 isn't tiny, I realize. Frankly, that's the size of a decent college campus. The issue is that the closest BIG town is San Antonio. A debilitating 2 1/2 hours away. This is not okay. (I realize that it will have to be, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it.)

I've done a lot of traveling this summer, spending some time visiting my friends in New York, San Francisco, and back to D.C. For each of these visits, I've stayed with people in the city - in great neighborhoods where I could walk to "stuff." While these trips were great, they made me long for the big city more than ever.

If I'm being fair, I should admit that I've never been a true city girl. I've always been more of a suburbanite. But still - the city was always right there. And the suburbs had their own charm (charm = the great chain stores I frequent, such as Target, Barnes & Noble, World Market, The Gap, etc. etc.). In Del Rio, I will have none of those conveniences. Instead, I will be forced to get comfortable with my nemesis, Wal-Mart. I will have to get used to ordering everything on-line.

It really hit home when I visited my nemesis Sunday, in a mission to find dish soap and a few other goodies for the house. I went through five different aisles before I heard a soul speaking my native tongue. It's not like I haven't heard Spanish spoken in a store before. Whenever I visited my nemesis in Alexandria, VA (during desperate times, of course), I often heard customers speaking Spanish. I don't have a problem with it, really - I don't.

But for the first time in my life, I truly felt in the minority. A fish out of water.