Another Day Another C.
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“The Palace Still Stands”
The thing about leaving Eugene for five years is that you start building ghost towns in your head. You hope the places you loved especially the ones that kept you caffeinated, sane, semi-human are still there when you stumble back through town. You want them frozen in amber for your own selfish nostalgia.
So when I rolled back into Eugene and found the dreaded parking meters busted right in front of Palace Coffee and Bakery, it felt like the old java joint was winking at me, saying, Welcome home, old fool. Your coffee’s waiting.
Inside, nothing had spoiled. The coffee was still great not burnt, not pretentious, just right. The pastries were delicious without being the kind of sugar bomb designed to put you in the hospital by Tuesday. Each visit while in town, I saw a different lineup of baristas behind the counter, all sharp, all friendly, all clearly in on the joke that is Pearl Street. We even laughed about the trek upstairs to the bathroom with the magic key fob, like some absurd rite of passage. I initially grabbed the gallon bucket on the left instead of the actual one on the right.
The Palace hit every note I needed on this trip and not just caffeine, but proof that time doesn’t always ruin the good things. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, the places you loved are still alive, still serving, still themselves. And in this world, right now, that’s a small miracle. Grazi!