There is something familiar and satisfying about scooting into a naugahyde booth, knowing what to expect, and feeling free to hang out there for as long as you want. That is probably the sole advantage the coffee shop has over other venues; patrons don't, in general, feel rushed to vacate their table for the next wave of customers, because apart from the regulars, there is no next wave. They are not chic destinations, they are neighborhood institutions, complete with a newspaper kiosk and a bike rack out front and an "Always Open" sign in the window.
I recently decided to drop in on one that I've been driving by for years, and true to form, the food is basic and good, the coffee is watery and not hot enough, the service is slow. But the charm of the early 1960s decor and the people-watching of the regulars makes up for it somewhat, and the anonymity is a plus as well.
Here is an outside view of Corky's. The patio is always empty at breakfast, because it's on the east side of the building and thus flooded with sun all morning; I imagine it's a good place to while away the late afternoon after grabbing a cocktail from the attached "Cork Lounge," which is simply an annex where they serve meals the rest of the day and turn on the TV at night to give it a more bar-like atmosphere.
Micron pen #5 and watercolor. About 5x8 inches, in my new small journal.
