Consumed

The South End is full of great restaurants and a few cool bars. In short, an independent eater's paradise (if paradise required a lot of money and self-congratulatory elitism). There are row after row of eateries serving Thai, Indian, Ethiopian, French, American, Italian, Spanish, Peruvian, Venezuelan food (unfortunately, no Chinese, but Chinatown is next door). So naturally, D-Bomb and I hung out at the local Starbucks on Friday night.

We did try. We tried very hard. We supported local business with dinner at Don Ricardo, where service was lovely and attentive until we tried to get the check. After dinner, we naively tried to go to Picco's for ice cream and beer. Like it was possible on a Friday night. It was packed. Along with every other restaurant on the stretch. And bar. (Well, Don's wasn't. But we weren't going to stoop that low. Though I'd really like to try his flan. Right now.) And everyone everywhere looked chic and impressive and in love. Except for us. Hence the near empty Starbucks.

Instead, we sipped sugary caffeine and talked about middle school and what Starbucks meant to us then. At a South End coffee shop on a Friday night, we were living what our high school selves aspired to (discussing books amidst brownstones- if only 16 year old me could see it now!), yet still feeling like we were on the outside, looking in.