Obessive Coffee DisorderPart of: Food , LA
Breakfast: mixed berry scone from farmers' market
Best way to kill an hour on a Saturday: Drive around the West Side of Los Angeles looking for a Peet’s Coffee that doesn’t have a line out the door. You know when you get stupidly obsessed with something? And I’m not talking about someone. Say a cup of eggnog latte not from Starbucks which you walked past and there was no line, but from Peet’s Coffee where the eggnog latte is an actual experience. It’s not too sweet and doesn’t have too much nutmeg or foam. You park a few minutes away from the Main St. location and don’t go inside when you realize the line is at least 20 people deep. You figure the Montana location will be less crazed. The people are richer over there and have fancy espresso makers and hired help. And Richie Rich people hate waiting in line. You drive past Peet’s and the line is out the door. Don’t people have anything better to do on a Saturday like playing with their kids? Wait, that’s what nannies are for. You're on edge now because all you want is your fucking eggnog latte, so you debate on actually parking and getting in line, but only entertain this for a millisecond, because you don’t want to hear people’s insipid chit chat, and Montana people are complainers. You know it’s insane to venture to Peet’s Coffee in Brentwood because the parking will be impossible and how could there not be a line, but Brentwood folks seem the type who would be out shopping or seeing a movie in Westwood--pray you're making an educated guess. You accidentally park far away from the store without passing by it first. However, now you’ve wasted an hour and it would be pathetic to not get the coffee after all that. You walk in the bitter cold even though you're still kind of sick. You walk right up to the counter at Peet’s Coffee and a massive line forms after you. You always wanted to know what it was like to be first in line. You observe that Brentwood people seem the friendliest, and this Peet’s Coffee has the best vibe out of the three. You get your
crack latte and almost finish it by the time you get to your car. Why didn't you say fuck your girlish figure for once and order a large?