1 star rating11/15/2008
This is a great place to witness the progress of human societal breakdown and the disintegration of the real-world community.
Through the large plate-glass windows lining NW Glisan you can see a few people scattered about, and even sitting next to one another at busier times, with their faces lit up from the business side of an iridescent apple and their ears plugged-up with white wires. They won't look back, nor up from the screen, nor at one-another.
Welcome to the new cafe life, where a congress of zombies type anything interesting they have to say into a device, sealed off from the world around them.
But then again one can't blame them after experiencing the place from the inside. Just the act alone of stepping to the counter can trigger an episode of mild depression.
There are random products scattered around the counter from horrible looking cookies under scrunched layers of plastic film, to bagged chips and candies. You feel like you're waiting in line at an independent gas station. Dark, filthy, and dank. The music blaring forth is usually loud and industrial.
You'll wait at the counter for 5 minutes before someone appears. They are always working in the back. Always. Moving supplies, or fixing something or other. Then they will make you a terrificly bland coffee-drink.
The dessert counter is terrifying. It seems that their desserts are end of the day donations from the lunch pails of local children.
What appears to be half-eaten apple pies, squished brownies, and a smattering of other foods only made unpalatable by their close association in this fluorescent death chamber will make you feel cheap, dirty, and tainted.
This place lacks a purpose, vision, or point. They don't take food, drink, nor coffee seriously. They do take trying to sell anything seriously. Coffee? We got it! Beer? That too! Heck, we'll even try to force an impulse purchase at check-out.
Gas? Where's the gas? Coming soon!
Only then, after experiencing this little piece of hell, will you understand why the poor souls inside are so intent with distracting themselves from the here-and-now.
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