In the spirit of a novice international traveler, I’ve been exploring New York City neighborhoods. Sometimes everything looks the same. I find myself walking in circles, mistaking North for South and experiencing déjà vu in places I’ve never been. On the other hand, sometimes nothing looks familiar. It actually feels like I’m in a foreign country. I’ll find myself in a cultural or ethnic pocket where few people look like me and signs in English are hard to come by.
I think I’ve found the one consistently neutral ground. Sometimes a traveler needs domestic refuge, but I’m not across the ocean backpacking through Europe. I’m twelve stops down the line in Flushing, Queens, with a backpack. I wander, scanning the street for an inviting door. Storefront signs are clearly visible over low bobbing heads, however, I’m challenged by what I assume are Chinese characters on everything. I pull up my phone’s GPS to see if an “embassy” is nearby. Sure enough, three blocks away is a Starbucks.
Whenever I feel like I’ve stumbled into “the bad neighborhood,” I just search for “Starbucks” on my phone and I’m led back to civilization. It may be a played out, unoriginal coffee shop, but it’s home. Just like America sucks for being blind to the rest of the world, it’s still home. We live here because there are things to like about it. And there are definitely things to like about Starbucks, like their white chocolate mochas!
Today, I accidentally spilled my entire white chocolate mocha all down a chair and onto the floor. Within minutes, a team of Asian baristas were mopping it up, and I had a replacement drink in my hands. I didn’t even have to tell them what I needed replaced. No matter where I am, Starbucks pretends to know me, and really knows my coffee, even when it’s been spilled and spreading across the floor.
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