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LOCAL COFFEE SHOP SMOKE FREE, BACK IN FAMILIAR HANDS

By York “Budd” Durden

LOCAL COFFEE SHOP SMOKE FREE, BACK IN FAMILIAR HANDS

By York “Budd” Durden

There’s nothing more comforting than wandering into your hometown coffee shop, the one you’ve been patronizing for, oh, in my case, damn near a quartercentury. The familiar faces, the smells, the drugs—the caffeine, I mean. A sense of home. A sense of place. My coffee shop.

Of course you know I’m talking about Adriana’s, the heart and soul of Five Points, in some ways. Anne’s smiling face, dumping that mud into my cup. Albert’s home cookin’ in my belly, by god! Owner Phil Norris’s irascible, weary wit in the face of the street construction and a succession of stolen presidential elections.

Last Monday, though, I had a wee bit of a scare, and not just because my proctologist is unhappy with the progress on my “condition”:

Happy and unaware that anything was remotely wrong in the neighb, I strolled blithely down the sidewalk, whistling ABBA’s “The Winner Takes It All,” thinking ahead to that cuppa Joe.

In my wake, tender green shoots burst out of the Carolina loam to greet the crisp spring air. An animated white-throated sparrow landed on my shoulder and gave me a wink. A fire truck drove by in slow motion; the chief waves in cheerful salutation while an honest-to-god Dalmatian sits on top wagging its tail (apologies to David Lynch for that one.) Old Glory snaps in the dry breeze. In other words, the world is spinning in the right direction.

But as I get closer to my beloved Adriana’s, I squint against the morning sun to see…that it’s being torn apart.

Not by a bunch of unruly Hand Middle Schoolers on spring break, but, like, literally, by guys in overalls.

I shriek, “What the frickin’ heck is going on here?”

I’m gasping for air. Norris comes over, clearing his throat. “I’m out,” he says. “Done. Finito.”

The shock settles over me like a mist. I am incensed. “So when exactly was I to be told of this?” He looks down. “We decided you’d be the last to know.” He’s serious. A fat tear rolls down my ruddy cheek.

And then Thomas Miehls wanders in. The three of us stand for a long moment looking at one another stupidly. I blink rapidly, processing the situation.

Finally, a rusty gear located somewhere inside the depths of my meager intellect turns with a grinding sound, and I make the connection.

Long story short, Meihls (who also owns Mary, formerly Luna) actually owned Adriana’s before Norris did, about eight years ago. Immediately, I am placated— the business is staying in good hands, in the Five Points family.

So how did it come about? Why give it another shot after all this time?

“I’m in a better position financially now,” Miehls says. “I didn’t do that good a job then, but I’m a little more mature now, and I wanted to get back to it.”

I’m further pacified not only by the fact that a longtime Saluda Avenue veteran is taking the reins, but that the changes being made are mainly cosmetic, which the old girl was in need of for a while now anyway.

The gelato’s going, though, in favor of Edy’s ice cream. “Gelato, you had to sell that,” Miehls declares. “Ice cream—that sells itself.”

The other major change is a potentially more gut-wrenching one for certain individuals who engage in the practice of spewing carcinogenic gases into the atmosphere: No more smoking inside the café, a brave move considering the connection in (some) people’s minds between coffee and cancer-sticks.

Miehls is undeterred. “I think it’s going to be a problem at first. But in the long run, we’ll bring in a lot more customers than we’ll lose.”

Whether smoker or non-smoker, though, there’s a more important reason to keep patronizing a business such as Adriana’s, or any small, locally owned concern, a rationale articulated quite well by Miehls: “By supporting a place like Adriana’s, you support not only me as the owner, you support the employees, and the people who service the establishment—you keep the money here in Columbia.” As a fellow business owner, I can tell you all it’s not a sucker bet, fellow babies. Keep the bucks here—don’t send them to Seattle.

So, to Phil Norris and his lovely wife “M”, it’s farewell, for now—we’ll miss you like the best friends that you have been to all of us in Five Points. And to Thomas—good luck, old buddy, we’ll see you around the espresso machine.

Until next time, I remain,

York

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