I Love NYC: The Coffee Cart
Compassion and Comedy with a Side of Caffeine
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom stays these coffee purveyors from the swift brewing of their coffee grounds.
Photo credit: Kym Motley
The coffee cart was my bridge between home and work before the pandemic. No matter the weather, I could count on the coffee cart to be there when I needed them. My coffee guy knew I was popping out of the subway at 9:15 am. My coffee guy knew I was having a large coffee with cream and sugar. As I handed him a $1.50, he gave me a head nod and a smile, silently saying, “Have a good day. See you tomorrow.” Every day.
A cup of compassion
For four years, I stopped at the coffee cart at Hudson and King. Two men and one woman worked behind the counter and served coffee, pastries, and breakfast sandwiches. On a few rare occasions, I was short or forgot my cash. With kindness, my coffee guy placed the large coffee with cream and sugar on the counter and said, “You can pay tomorrow.” I thanked him for having mercy on me and my caffeine habit.
One morning, a wild pack of undecided consumers stood between me and the cart. A swarm replaced the orderly line and the crowd buzzed with indecision. I stood to the side and tried to make sense of the coffee cart takeover. Sensing my angst, my coffee guy caught my eye, beckoned me with a silent nod, and set my coffee on the counter. I skirted the crowd, handed him $1.50, scooped up my coffee, and dashed into my building.
A side of smiles
A few years ago, I switched jobs and moved from the West Village to Meatpacking. I bid farewell to my coffee family at Hudson and King and discovered a new coffee duo at 14th and 8th. They greeted me each morning with a joke and a large coffee with cream and sugar. When the spirit moved them, a free pastry made its way into my paper bag.
I looked forward to seeing them every day. The dynamic duo sent me on my 10-minute walk from the subway to the office with a large cup of positivity. They had no idea I was miserable at work and their kindness reminded me that my experience inside the office was a mere fraction of my existence. On my last day, I let the dynamic duo know I was changing jobs. I celebrated my escape from that office but I mourned the loss of my guardian angels. Wings outstretched, their morning’s work took the form of coffee, pastries, and endless cups of positivity.
My heart aches for those coffee cart moments and the thousands of people in the street cart community, for they have been severely impacted by the pandemic. If you miss your street cart family as much as I do, look up Street Vendor Project to learn more about advocacy efforts.
