It’s natural, I’ve learned, to lean on the familiar when you are surround by the unfamiliar. It’s our comfort zone, our safe spot, if you will. Every morning I walk myself through the tiny, crowded streets of Shimbashi overwhelmed with an array of shops, bars and eateries. In all there is to entertain, my oh-so-American ass found a Starbucks, almost right away, down an odd side street I had never seen before. But, for some unsettling reason, I knew it was there, like I have an internal GPS set on “as American as possible, please!”
I happily wait out front, every morning, for them to open at 7am, in the standard Japanese queue. They have become accustomed to my presence, apparently, as they always have my order ready before I have even had the chance to pay. “Ohayo gozaimasu! Regular today?” We exchange light pleasantries and large smiles.
I always sit at the same little table by the perfectly stocked bookshelf that signifies the transition between the coffee shop and their little corner bookstore. While I slowly consume my fantastic breakfast, I give my poor body the opportunity to regain moisture control from the unbelievable heat, and my head the chance to wrap around the day that lay ahead of me.
I don’t give a crap how American I sound. THANK THE GOD FOR STARBUCKS!!!!
As The Mall Turns 