I was beginning to like Java Classics. At first when I saw this pop up in Northtown, like, a year ago, I thought it was a certain fail. Who ever heard of a coffeehouse inside a mall, especially when I can name two around the area that are bigger?
But then I got burned out at those two places and I wanted to hang out at the mall I've known all my life, so I gave this place a try. It wasn't even a real coffeeshop with a barista and all that. No, they had these self-serve drink machines, like a gas station; you push a button to pour this drink into your cup and have to release it, like, two-thirds of the way through so it won't overflow and burn your hand.
At first I thought I was turned off by it, but then I started to notice the good parts of this place. There was a plasma TV. There were many tables and many sockets to juice up my computer. And the "coffee" was cheap, almost a third much as Dunn Bros. or Caribou. And since it was not horribly busy so I can just put on my headphones and surf the Internet in peace, I realized I was wrong; this was a great place.
I drank there about a half-dozen more times. I soon grew to like the place. There were no run-ins with strangers. I saw that a disproportionate number of customers were hot chicks (although that number was dwarfed by the number of mall walkers who would swoop in for a quick hot one). The girls working the counter were cute, too. I once wanted to pay with a credit card and the manager said he couldn't take them for purchases that cheap; he then volunteered to write up a note reminding me to pay him the next time! I was so moved by his gesture I decided to let go of my no-cash day and give him the money. The last time I was there the hot girl behind the counter (she had piercings everywhere, including her clavicle!) let me change the channel on the TV to sports. In short, I was falling in love with the place because it felt like home.
I wanted to go there again this afternoon because ... well, just because; I was in a weird state, so I wanted to just go there. I then had to run back home because Home Depot's a parking lot away and I should get an estimate on the new kitchen countertop Father's planning to put in on my way to enjoying some coffee.
I park on one side of the mall to walk all the way through the other side and Home Depot, then plan to come back to my car, dump the estimate, pick up my laptop and veg. But on my way to the Depot I check out Java Classics ... and it's all black. And when I look inside I see an even graver picture: The tables are gone. It's as if someone looted the place.
I can't believe it. The last time I drank there was Saturday. Hell, I was at the mall yesterday and walked by it. It was never packed to the gills, but every time I went by it it looked like someone was there. I thought I was wrong to believe this business would go under. I guess I was wrong about being wrong.
This sudden loss depresses me. I had no idea this was coming; I don't think the cute girls who worked there knew the store was closing. I am faced with the sudden absence of a place I had grown to love, trust and feel safe in. I think I'm OK right now because the impact of its demise hasn't sunk in yet; I suppose this denial. But this will hit me soon.
Walking back from Home Depot I looked through the closed doors one more time, except that this time one of the doors was open. I noticed the TV was also not there. Who were there were these two ladies; either one of them was showing the other what the space is like, or they're planning how to gut the remaining furnishings.
I had no choice but to stare. I wanted to know what the hell happened to Java Classics (which, turns out, is just a franchise-heavy coffee concept/business that boasts its energy drink category will "grow 67% in the next two years" [good luck with that]). But I didn't want to sound stupid. And yet I stared, enough to that one of the women there noticed me. Now I'd look dumb to scram because she noticed me, like I was a thief and she was a cop. So I just kind of looked around to make sure she was approaching me because of me.
She did -- "Can I help you?" she said.
"No, just looking," I replied, keeping my deep, abiding love for and this sudden, shocking pain of the death of Java Classics a secret.
Just in case she felt I was going to ask if this was going to be a new store, after she asked me she went around to one of the windows and took down a sign. Yes, definitely, Java Classics is done. And another place has been taken from me.
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