I love this quirky corner coffee shop that Robert and I stumbled upon on our trip to Philadelphia last December. (WHO visits frigid Philly in DECEMBER?!)
Walking through the skinny black door, we discovered that the baristas were as quirky as the architecture.
After thawing out a bit with a steaming joe …
… I warmed up conversationally and asked the baristas about the story behind the coffee shop’s name.
The three looked at each other, then at me. Toboggan Hat became the storyteller.
“A long time ago, in the early days of old Philly, this neighborhood was overrun with English tea houses. They were at every corner! You couldn’t swing a stick without knocking over a cup of Earl Grey.”
“Hmm,” I thought.
“One day an ancient bearded man, feared by children for his gruff demeanor, maybe his name was Old Joe, came sauntering down Spruce Street to this very spot, and to nobody but the cold wind, yelled, ’I’mma sick o’ tea. Ha-bat-it some damn coffee!’”
“And right here, RIGHT HERE!, the cold but kind wind morphed the decrepit corner into a coffee shop and named it Habatit Coffee, which over the decades finally became Habitat Coffee.”
“Hmm,” I thought again.
I stared at the loquacious barista.
Toboggan Hat stared back at me.
Milts Hat and Green Hat stared at Toboggan Hat.
Robert stared at, well I couldn’t tell because of his sunglasses.
Then Green Hat said, “You’re making that up, dude.”
“Yes I am,” he replied with a laugh.
“I think you should keep it as your official origin story.” I suggested.
“Naw,” Toboggan replied, “I like to make up a different one whenever anybody asks.”
We left Habitat, doubly satisfied. And walked back into the arctic but lively wind.
NealEnJoy 