I ran out of Dean's Bean's coffee today, with no hope of getting more until the weekend. This qualifies as a Defcon 1, "Turn your key, sir..." emergency, so I punched "Worcester coffee roasters" into Google hoping to find something better than pedestrian Starbucks. Up popped Acoustic Java, a coffee shop on Main St. next to Clark University. Jenn and I have been meaning to check this place out, but after seeing it we come across a squirrel, or a shiny dime and immediately forget. Jenn's at camp this week, and the twinge of guilt I feel for going without her is quickly dispatched by the caffeinated gorilla I carry on my back. Off I go, like Ferris Bueller's parking valet.
The smell of good coffee hits you when you open the door, and when I ask the pleasant girl behind the counter for a pound of Ethiopian, she asks if I'd like medium roast or dark."Both!" I reply, channeling Augustus Gloop. She then points out the buy two, get one free special and suggests a pound of Rwandan to complete my African coff-ari - AND would I like a free cup?! I take my coffee and my Mona Lisa smile over to a table to be a fly on the wall for a few minutes.
This place is fun! My barista is sporting a variety of tats, a tasteful Tibetan monk outfit, and a Sinead O'Connor hairdo. There's Too Skinny Euro Guy sitting in the back having a Vulcan mind meld with his Macbook. There's one of these guys in every coffee shop, they should unionize. Snippets of conversation drift by, on one side a discussion of Christianity, yoga, and one mans claim to be a Frisbytarian. He believes that when he dies his soul goes up on the roof and he can't get it down. On the other, someone is monologuing on the merits of speed metal ska bands.
I'm totally coming back here with Jenn. The coffee is top notch, and I'm pretty sure I could wear my full pelt coyote mountain man ice fishing hat and no one would blink. In August.
