RIP Espresso Roma
Wow this is so weird...sitting in the reincarnation of my favorite coffee shop/place in the world...Espresso Roma on the Hill in Boulder. RIP Espresso Roma, I love you. You were comfortable, cozy, dirty, eclectic, busy, rowdy, tiny. You attracted the counter-culture, you welcomed the homeless, the aging skateboarders with tattooed faces, the girls with dreadlocks and blue hair, the rejects, the rebels, the musicians, the poets, the writers. Your music was eccentric, by local indie artists, with an unpredictable, always-changing variety of vibing techno, wailing vocals, cacophoious instrumentals.... I never heard a song playing at Roma that I’d ever heard before, or since. Your baristas were rough but kind, remembered I always wanted a triple-shot mocha and didn’t care what kind of milk, no whipped cream damnit, always with a pretty design. There was no menu, you had to know what you wanted. Always a line out the door, only four tiny tables inside....but I always got a seat since this is my home. You were a community gathering spot, the front and back patios always packed with regulars and their dogs, passerbys stopping to laugh with friends, the homeless quietly drinking a cup of free water provided by the nonjudging baristas, who’d traveled the world and been some kind of ‘home-less’ before themselves. It was always so packed inside and out you could barely move, likely intimidating to those who want the quiet comfortable corporateness of Starbucks. Getting your latte was a free-for-all, you always waited a while for your drink they were so busy, and they just hollered over the music until you picked it up. I miss the old, tiny wobbly wooden tables where I’d study, read, write, and talk with friends old and new. At CU we were assigned to write about our “happy place”....you were mine.
Now you are clean, quiet, remodeled, playing the same tired mainstream Beatles songs I’ve heard a million times. There is no one here anymore, none of the old regulars like me who practically lived there...the tables are new, the clean chairs are empty, the fancy windows are new, there is a strange bright openness throughout the small shop instead of the dark mysterious coffeeshop world behind the counter that produced laughter and gorgeous latte art at a fast-paced rate. I miss your bawdy baristas, your eclectic energy, your unique vibe, your bizarre clientele, weirdos like me who felt at home in a place just as strange as them.
RIP Espresso Roma, you are missed.