Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday

I'm presently contemplating whether or not to feel sorry for my waiter last night. Poor thing, I caught him off guard by yelling "Hey" which was immediately followed by the random question of has he ever seen "The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift" to which he returned the shock by responding that he had, in fact, seen the movie (because let's face it, the total population of people who have seen this movie can only be half the number of bad actors that were recruited to make the film). After he answered I told him "You look like that guy." He said, "That guy?" I said, "Yes, that guy, the main actor." He said, "Did you ever see that movie he was in when he was about 5 years old about people in the woods?" Appalled at my own ignorance about this film he spoke of and never having seen the actor in anything other than "Tokyo Drift" I started naming off strange indie-trash films such as the remake of "The Hills Have Eyes" and "Wrong Turn." After suffering through the pain it generated to even name those titles, neither of us ever figured out what film he was referencing. Never fear, Google is here: The actor's name is Lucas Black and the film that he played in as a kid is, drumroll please, "Sling Blade." My only regret is that someone didn't kill me with a lawnmower blade before I made the unfortunate decision to see that Billy Bob disaster.

My reason for bringing up my Ruby Tuesday visit, aside from another obvious demonstration of how the media violently shoves itself into my random conversations is that the restaurant's "soundtrack" is something reminiscent of my beloved Starbucks.



Ah, Starbucks, in all of its beautiful glory is not merely a place to savor your favorite iced Frappuccino, which by the way is their registered trademark, it is a complete full body experience leaving no sense unsatisfied. You walk in and your nose immediately inhales that heavenly scent of brewing coffee and baked pastries while your ears are simultaneously filled to overflowing with the eclectic and unique musical wizardry of Adele, Ali Farka, or Ingrid Michaelson. Your eyes scan their surroundings, dancing in the reflection of whimsical framed paintings and richly painted walls in warm hues reminding you of Autumn foliage. Once you've placed your order, the barista smiles at you as she hands you a sweet, steaming coffee scented with the season's special flavor, which you sip as your tastebuds burst in your mouth. As you nestle into one of their huge, over-stuffed arm chairs, one hand dangles over the side lightly brushing the deep velvet and no matter what kind of day you just stepped out of, all is forgotten as you reach a state of pure unadulterated bliss.

Starbucks, you had me at hello.