Latte

I am going into coffee business. Not. Few things made me think about it though. It is easy to start.
The last condo building I built had a commercial space downstairs.
First, Chinese People of America wanted it for a Massage Parlor which is a nice way of calling brothel.
You, people, have no idea how many brothels are on Ashland Ave. in Chicago. It is like some Underground
Brothel Strip in Thailand. They didn’t get a permit because the Alderman was my man. Loved the guy for doing that. Headache was gone.
If the real estate agent – an Asian American woman (gorgeous) – was one of the girls there – I would fight for it. But she was just a real estate agent – it is a completely different kind of prostitution.
Then two lawyers showed up with so many masonic signs on their business card I was going to send them straight to hell (foreigners) but we negotiated instead for few weeks,
in the end I showed them a finger for wasting my time. That was a mistake. I should have lowered the price, I knew crash was coming since 2005. Snake was eating its tail. It was obvious.
Got called names, including stupid Pollock on many blogs.
This one guy, who was a broker in some real estate office took his time and wrote three pages why America is the greatest country in a world and real estate will never crash.
I wrote back: “really?”
Some people do not get the concept that YOU MAKE PLACES THE BEST IN A WORLD EVERYDAY. NOTHING IS GRANTED. CHOSEN IS SUPPOSEDLY GRANTED IN CHOSEN PEOPLE.
I SOMETIMES ASK – CHOSEN FOR WHAT?
It matters for what.
So the third party that wanted to buy the commercial space was a husband and a wife team from Honduras who owned a coffee plantation there.
We met many times. He was going to have a small coffee shop for buyers of his coffee. I laid it out with him. Great space.
We went to a store next door to start negotiating parking spaces. Hamburgers didn’t like the idea. Deal was over. Last time I met with them over a cup of coffee at Julius Meinl Coffee Shop on Addison and Damen, not too far from my building. Till today I consider it, possibly, the only NON PRETENSIONAL (?), FULLY FUNCTIONAL AND MATURE coffee shop in Chicago. Why?
People SPOKE LOUD, PEOPLE LAUGHED LOUD, THEY WERE TALKING WITH EACH OTHER. Coffee was good (Honduran man said his would be better) and pastries were phenomenal.
The whole place showed no trace of YUPPIE BOY SCOUTS  learning how to order. You could be at ease. When I was sixteen I spoke fluent Italian. Now I don’t.
I went to Starbucks on Ogden couple of days ago (breaking my rules) to meet with a friend.
The girl behind the counter seemed sane.
– Hi.
-Hi.
– What would you like, sir?
– How do you call medium in this place?
She smiles.
– Medium.
– Thank you. ( I am relieved. I have a mature woman with boobs in front of me. Full of milk). Medium latte, please. How do you call latte?
– Latte.
– Thank you. Thank you so much.
Later I talked to a friend of mine about his and my plans. We try to connect. Arrange. Make things work for both of us. It is about sailing.
I left with this conviction in my heart that I love small boobs. It is a sport thing, small boobs are as lovely but are better for kayaking, sailing, diving (wet suits can be annoying).
I love small boobs. Big boobs are occasional perversion. But only that.