I think I might be entering a new phase in the Around the World Series.
Enter the introspective “view from my table” picture. Not having a buddy with me to snap a goofy shot outside with thumbs up, this shot is from a lovely second story cafe in the theatre district of downtown Cleveland. I happened upon it on a rainy day with some cash in my pocket and several hours to kill, and thankfully, Cleveland never disappoints.
I used to subscribe to the Sunday paper, and loved those lazy Sunday mornings perusing the headlines, clipping coupons, drinking coffee.
And then I started working on Sundays and began to develop a huge stack of papers that I didn’t have time to get through. Before becoming eligible for an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive, I cut off the subscription and these days I typically try to catch the news on the radio.
I must not be the only one, because the papers are sinking big time. Publications have had to get creative in order to survive the newspaper apocalypse. Enter PressReader: a massive database of 2,300+ full-text publications all available for download on your mobile device. The occasional paper peruser can purchase individual issues for $0.99 each, or the full-on news junkie can have any of the database, any time, for a monthly subscription fee.
This seems really great for a person who, say, commutes by train and owns an ipad, or a person who travels frequently for work. The idea of reading The Irish Times on a layover in Tulsa in the middle of the night is amazing to me. I would assume that flight attendants sometimes just want to know what’s going on in their hometowns, and this way the local paper is always at your fingertips.
The problem is: I’m not any of those people… and I don’t have an ipad.
I have that bookshelf app and a few other reader-type apps and despite my optimism to read all of these things while on public transportation, I mostly end up staring out the window. The thing is: reading newspapers on your phone is sometimes awkward. In order to get the words big enough to actually read I have to scroll over every three words. Maybe I’m dense, but then I get lost in the article and give up. Plus, reading on the bus makes me a little woozy.
If I consider where I really like to read, PressReader doesn’t really do it for me. Call me a romantic, but there’s something about a tangible newspaper that is so wonderful; online versions don’t give you that leisurely feeling you get from flipping the oversized pages, black smudges of ink on your fingertips, sipping a cup of joe will the sun shines in on your dining room table. That’s a feeling I just can’t get from scrunching over my little rectangular box.
But, it’s not personal…
I can see how this app would be totally amazing for the right user. It’s also a great model for, say, an obscure publication that might not otherwise be able to recruit readers to a mobile format (like, for example, the Albanian Gazeta Panorama or Cambodian Business). And, you can bet when Dance Magazine jumps on board I will most definitely be downloading it on a monthly basis, no matter how tiny the text.
The most important thing to note about this Starbucks, in my opinion, is the fact that it’s DECEMBER. Gainsville has weather akin to my beloved Bay Area, but sunnier and more humid. It surprised me a little to see alligators on the Florida theme mugs, but then, should I really be surprised by that while visiting the Gator Nation? I’m really into the Misto these days, and this one did not disappoint. Neither did reading outside for an hour the day before Christmas…
In a recent drive through Waldo, Florida on the way to the awesome Waldo Flea Market and Antique Village (the biggest in North Florida!!), I was surprised to find that this Florida Ghost Town looks a lot like the midwest – just warmer and with more palm trees. The trains come less frequently, the downtown district is full of empty storefronts and vacant lots, and there wasn’t a person to be found.
Going throughout these sorts of towns in the Midwest I usually find that I can place a lot of the blame on Wal-Mart. The big box that pays small salaries has obliterated much of our once-thriving small town squares and downtown districts. While I don’t know this to be the reason for the state of Waldo, I’m sure that Mr. Walton isn’t far behind.
There is an odd beauty to these little ghost towns, and while this isn’t my home, it reminds me of all of our homes in small town America, and why we left.
Somehow, this photo of a sleepy Lauren at an Ohio truck stop got lost in the shuffle of my close-in-proximity trip to Florida for Christmas. My bad, but the coffee wasn’t. I’ve rediscovered the cafe misto… fewer calories and lots of deliciousness in a cup than, say, a caramel brulee latte. What? That’s what I said too. Ohio is wise to have beautiful oases along the turnpike on the way to Cleveland, all equip with a Starbucks. Well played, Ohio.
I’ve been through the airport lots of times. I know exactly what I can and cannot bring on an airplane. I’ve read all the signs at security. I have a variety of 1 oz. samples of toothpaste and shampoo that all fit in my resealable plastic bag. I’ve got carry-on organization and metal-free airport fashion down to a science. But a recent flight to Charlotte en route to Florida was the first time I’ve ever seen this:
Huh? How come old people don’t have to take off their shoes? Does TSA fear they’ll fall over and break a hip, holding up the line even further? What makes them think seniors aren’t just as capable of hijacking a plane as I am? Does anyone else see the injustice in this? I’m all for respecting my elders, but airport rules should be ubiquitously enforced.
Well, since the Mayan Apocalypse didn’t actually happen, I spent a lovely afternoon on the 21st of December browsing the Rodeo Dr. of Sarasota: St. Armand’s Circle.
Exhausted by dodging rich ladies doing their Christmas shopping (apparently many people waiting to lay down cash for Christmas anticipating the end of the world), Starbucks was an imperative stop.
It was a misto. It was really busy and took awhile to get my coffee, but then I remembered what it was like to work at my store on Michigan Avenue. I sympathize with every customer I ever had on a Friday during shopping season, and thank you for your patience.
I would also like to point out to my friends and family in the Midwest, that while you are digging out from a foot of snow I’m posing besides palm trees. Ah, to be a Floridian for a week…
Lauren Warnecke 
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