James L.
Yelp
A fantastic courtyard,terrific atmosphere, and PJ's usual competent brew. Baristas are the traditional PJ's hipper-than-thou set, but friendly enough.
Until.
Our drama begins at 7:30 on any given weeknight.
Certain baristas begin to feel that the night is dragging on too long. A customer coming in after 8 might detect a certain reluctance of manner. It is impossible to miss the pointed, repetitive-to-the-point-of-OCD sweeping of the sitting-rooms: a meaningful glare seems to say, "I have swept. You may leave. At. Any. Time. That. Suits. Yourgoddamself."
A customer coming in at 8:30 might detect what can only be described as thinly veiled hostility.
"Why," the barista seems to ask, "the f***k are you coming in here? I have neither the will nor the means to serve you." What he actually says is, "Oh, we seem to be out of...." (Note. They are probably not out of anything. Except patience. You are requiring energies that they require for going home to smoke weed.)
At this stage, one does not yet suspect that the barista is spitting in one's iced coffee, but one begins to suspect that the barista would rather run an ice-pick through one's heart than serve one.
If one comes in to the Magazine PJ's after 8:45, one can see the strain on the barista's face as he inquires, "How can I help you?" One suspects that what he means is, "Can I serve you a spermatazoa frappé followed by your own gore?" A pronounced we-are-about-to-close menace pervades the place.
In a way, it's a sort of cosmic drama. It is sometimes a near thing whether the barista will leap over the counter and assault one, and so it is a bit like Camus' "The Stranger" in its existential momentum, or perhaps like Greek tragedy, the tightly wound spring and the inevitable hamartia leading to a fall.
Naturally, everybody who has worked in food service knows this feeling, and has lobbied one's senator for a food-service exception to Murder Two. We all know what this is like.
But the man is being asked to prepare a velvet cocoa, not a roast ox.
In general, therefore, I enjoy this PJ's in the mid-morning, or the early afternoon. But there is too much of Paradise Lost about it after seven at night to recommend it. One day, it might well end up on the news.