How 21st century Route 66 can you get? At the Fire Creek Coffee Company, 22 E. Route 66, Flagstaff, Arizona., the customers are coming in from the glaring August sunlit glint of the morning traffic outside and perhaps, for just a moment, you are no longer amid one of the loudest places on earth with the light jazz and a very deep and northward amount of space to hide in.
Oh sure, the espresso machine will churn, and the inside voices, chairs screeching on tile floors, a slight knocking of coffee cups on the service counter, and someone always saying "awesome" a lot, can be too much for some in the morning. But as a momentary vacation from the Big Outdoors, it will do.
It's a nice cultured place, with lots of locally produced art on the walls, a high stage for events after dark for the liquor drinking crowd, with open mic events on Wednesday nights.
It's a climb out of the little droves of people tripping up and down the sidewalk, many times chattering like mutants staring into hand held communications as they walk on by, five lanes of two-way automobiles gunning their engines for the mere romance of it, including that Harley shattering the breeze as it turns from the turn lane onto San Francisco Street, in the foreground of a parking lot for the Amtrak station, the two-way railroad tracks behind that, which includes the rotating clang of the red-flashes at the crossing, helicopters overhead, airport traffic, too.
It all leads one to wonder if everything ever went off at once, what kind of perfect percussion might be created, a combination of ooooom and zoooom and beyoingoingoing!
Oh well, as the perfectly served drink lights the correct fuses in thy right operative lobe, we can all dream about the challenge to the Gods this might incite as the early morning bad news of the ambulance siren carries off into the wind. It's 10:30 a.m. in America: Do you know where your muses are?