I’ve been going to this coffee-shop more often, the one Austin Ave., right outside Downtown. There’s a subtle charm about the joint that I simply can’t shake. The coffee is better, yes (they roast their own beans), but there is something else about it. You see, I like coffee-shops, but very rarely after ordering my desired beverage do I actually sit in one. I prefer to grab my coffee and retreat back to a place I’m more familiar with, like the university library or my apartment.
But this place is different. When I order, I find myself having no problem with sitting. I order the coffee “for here” often, and it's poured into these small, plain ceramic cups. When I finally take my seat, being sure to always scope out an electrical outlet for my laptop, I find myself being perfectly content with who I am and what I’m doing, even if it’s just for the moment.
Very rarely nowadays do I find myself being able to sit and be present anywhere else. I’m not quite sure why this is. Maybe it’s the ambience of the shop, the coming-and-going-ness of it all. I look around and I watch all the other college kids who make their routine visits to this inviting little place, and for a brief moment I’m offered a glimpse into their lives, all the mundanities they also suffer from, the homework assignments, spiral notebooks, laptops and pens sprawled out across the window-side booths.
I suppose that’s the interesting thing about places like these. You can order a coffee and just sit there, and for once in our short, miserable little lives, we’re able to see that we’re just like everyone else. There is nothing particularly remarkable about most people, and that’s okay, because we all just kind of live among one another. In the case of these little hole-in-the-wall shops, the arrangement is quietly and subconsciously understood.
Maybe that’s what Murray’s Bagel Shop is really all about. I’ve admittedly been struggling to figure out what this name really means. The name Murray was a nickname given to me by my mother to tease me, a playful way of reminding me of my abject cynicism, my overall outlook. But maybe more broadly Murray represents a specific archetype, someone who might be found in all of us at some point during our lives. He sits there and orders his coffee, maybe a bagel too, and for a small moment he is able to simply sit and exist as he is in that moment.
Maybe there is something more to this concept. I’ll let you know if I find anything.