Anyone who listens to me long enough eventually hears about my obsession with the Underground Coffeehouse. I just want to lay out all the facts for everyone, here and now. The Underground Coffeehouse is the nearest to Heaven I have ever been. Couches, left and right, bundled in groups or off to the side. Overstuffed recliners, old and battered coffee tables, broken lamps, and more couches. In some places you've either got to weigh 110 lbs or be able to bend all sorts of crazy ways to get through a couch crowd. Generally, the play good music, although at times it does get a little loud if you're looking for a decent nap.
Think of Interpol. PDA: "We have two hundred couches where you can sleep tonight." Literally, every time I start feeling sleepy and drowsy, I think of that song and imagine, just exactly what would two hundred sleeping couches look like? And I see the Underground Coffeehouse. I see home. It's where I go to study, it's where I go to read a book, it's where I go if I'm trying to avoid going back to la casa verde. It's not, however, where I go for coffee. The Underground does not do good coffee. The Starbucks upstairs does better coffee, obviously those numerous places downtown do coffee better. But that's not what makes the Underground special.
It's all about the couches.
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