adventure #1: the broadway roastery on 8th

the evening before patrick and i set out on our first saskaspooning adventure, i tried to get him to make me a deal.

"how about if we get a coffee shop, or something, we can shake again." we were in his friend jay's house, playing "Towers of Goo" on jay's wii, and i was getting a bit anxious about this plan of patrick's i had just agreed to.

"what's wrong with coffee shops?" patrick asked, watching his Goo tower growing steadily skyward.

"well, what if we get the broadway roastery, or something? there is no food there. there is only coffee." i should know--the roastery is by my apartment, and i go there a lot, because the only other alternative is starbucks and i do like to support the locals, even though i am about to malign them ..... because as much as i enjoy fair trade coffee, at the roastery it comes with wifi internet, and lots and lots of hippies and grungy hipsters; dogs chained up outside, kids in the parking lot playing hackey sack and plotting revolutions while dealing drugs. there is certainly a vibe at the roastery, that's for sure. but it wasn't necessarily the sort of vibe i was looking for. plus, i get hungry. patrick has this ability to go hours without eating but i need sustenance on a regular basis, otherwise i get cranky. "tim horton's or caffee sola would be okay. because they have food. but the roastery has no food."

"they have food," said patrick, referring, i think, to the stickysweet "jamaica bars"--butter and coconut pressed into puck form and featured prominently at the counter, alongside dead flies.

"that's not food." my tummy grumbled in anticipation of tomorrow's hunger. "so can we skip a coffee shop if we get one?"

"no. you agreed to the rules. we go where we're sent. otherwise, what's the point?" patrick's Goo tower stretched ever higher.

i looked plaintively at jay, who shrugged. "you did agree."

i sighed and resigned myself to follow the rules. besides, there were over 200 restaurants for us to end up at. how possible would it be we'd end up at the roastery?

so you know how this is going to play out. we woke up and drove downtown to steal wifi, poised in the car, on the edge of our seats, and patrick gave his iphone a shake, and then began to laugh and laugh and laugh.

"what? what is it?" i grabbed the iphone and was horrified to see "The Broadway Roastery" as our suggestion. "how? did you rig this?"

"no. i did not. you did, you fatalist."

i had a moment of wanting to refuse to go. to get all pouty and put my foot down but then i remembered jay's you-agreed-didn't-you? shrug and so i reluctantly accepted my fate.

luckily, as we were driving towards the hippie-hotspot at the top of broadway avenue, at that spot known as 5 Corners, we realized we had been assigned The Broadway Roastery on 8th street. "well, i've never been to that one!" i said, and felt a bit relieved. this would be an adventure, after all.

8th street is a pretty lame street. it's a big prairie strip, the furthest you can get from hippiehaven as possible. all the same, i was still surprised when we walked into the Roastery on 8th and found stay-at-home mums, clean floors, and nary a dead fly, fruit or otherwise. the people on wifi were clean and did not appear to be uploading screenplays or downloading propaganda. and everyone looked well-fed. which meant, maybe, i'd get fed.

we went up to the counter (clean, wide, the whole place designed to look like a cabana or something) and i asked the young fresh faced hipster-in-training if there was any food to be had.

"well," she said, "we have cinnamon buns and pieces of cake". (no jamaica cake, i am happy to report). my heart sank. and my tummy rumbled. i knew i should have packed a snack.

"you dont have any food-food?"

"oh, we have mini pies. meat pies and veggie pies." she pointed at a tray of teenytiny little pies.

"i will have one of each, please!" she looked a bit surprised at that, but handed me two little plates with a little pie on each. (at this point i will mention that her belt was really too tight. we knew she was trying a "look" but she was failing a bit. but i have no doubt she'll eventually get transfered over to the "real" Roastery at 5 Corners and she'll learn the follies of her stripmall ways.)

as she handed me the pies she said, "you can heat them up at the microwave over by the cream and sugar. i'd give them each about a minute."

and so patrick waited while i heated up my pies, and then he took the plastic wrap off his cinnamon bun and we heated that up, as well. the bun. not the saran.

the rest of our visit was pleasant. the pies were delicious, (although, it must be said, could have used a bit longer in the microwave), but patrick said the cinnamon bun was "not the best." perhaps it, too, could have stood a bit more heating. i sipped my sugar-free london fog, patrick his double americano with ice, and we discussed the pros and cons of the Roastery on 8th St.

There is a children's play area. this did not look very fun, as it consisted of no children, mostly crayons, and a weird mural of a boy kneeling on a donkey. (see above). my theory is that the artist misjudged his perspective, lending the boy his weird donkey-dancing appearance.

The music was an interesting assortment--Rod Stewart, KT Tunstal, and that "walking in memphis" song i once memorized on an air canada flight to new zealand, back in the day when you only got the one overhead movie and the in flight "radio" had "stations" featuring hot tunes of the day. the station i favoured also showcased such classics as "Buffalo Stance" and "Cigarette Dangles".

and the people watching was fun, too. there was certainly a dearth of hipsters and revolutionaries, but a healthy collection of suburban wannabes.

all in all, we had a nice time. i had to eat again later, of course, but that's the name of the game. you never know what you're going to get.

except, i guess i kind of did know. i predicted the Roastery, didn't i? well, next time i'll be hoping we dont get someplace awesome.