The place opens at 11.30am right, so I leeched on the brother-in-law sending the nephew to school and took the 9am train from Eastwood to Newtown.
By 9.30am I was walking along an empty King Street, wondering why I thought it’d take an hour.
No sweat, it was all part of the plan.
I walked into the first cafe with no name, no customer, no enthusiasm (later no wifi), finally a digital wanker nomad who sits in the corner with a laptop on a Thursday morning.
The perfect camouflage in Newtown.
What I thought was a simple article about shaved ice took me an hour, eventually I told myself I wasn’t going to spend my whole morning here in a cafe.
So I walked down the street until I reached another coffee place full of people with laptops.
Only as I was queueing I realised it was a Japanese cafe with ramen, karaage on toast, matcha melon pan bagel kind of place.
What happened next was the wankiest conversation I’ve had this year.
“Do you have a coffee menu?”
“What?”
“It’s fine, I’ll have a long black.”
“We can do whatever coffee you want.”
“What beans do you use?”
“What?”
“It’s ok, I’ll have a long black.”
You don’t realise how insufferable you are until you leave your fart pool.
“I hope you like this place, I’m so nervous,” Lee Tran said as we grabbed the seat in the pocket next to the door.
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