Where I’m Writing: Il Piccolo Cafe Edition

Not unlike every other writer in America, I do the bulk on my writing at home. However, every so often I like to switch things up and get a change of scenery. This is obviously a little silly, as my laptop goes with me, and I spend the majority of my change-of-scenery time staring at the exact same object, just with a different beverage in hand.

Since moving from LA, I find myself at a loss for spots to write when I don’t want to write at home (also known as: I can’t stand to know that all the good snacks are riiiiiiight over there, if I just stop trying to write through a block and walk over there). Hence, I am beginning this nifty little segment as a way to chronicle all the local spots I have tried in an attempt to replace my favorite old haunts.

Recently, I decided to try the adorable Il Piccolo Cafe:

The pictures don’t do it justice, but I was trying not to be creepy and obtrusive. Things I like about this space include the fact that there are tons of tables, the food is tasty (oh hey blueberry scone!), and the staff is lovely. Which brings me to story time!

To the weirdo who ate half of the wrong sandwich (with his mouth open – ew!), then demanded the staff make him the proper sandwich, give him a free cappuccino (specific much?) and a free pop, then stood there and creepily hovered over the staff and asked them where your free food was every two minutes (not an exaggeration), you sir, are rude. To the wait staff, who listened to this man with a smile and gave him all of the crazy asked for – you people are saints and deserve every tip dollar you get, and then some. He didn’t even finish his pop! And he boxed his sandwich + the other half of the wrong sandwich. Weird. OK, The End…of story time.

To wrap things up, this place is adorable, spacious and a great spot to come eat breakfast and get some work done. Or, write 500 words and wonder why some people are so diametrically opposed to chewing their food with their mouth closed and using utensils (seriously sir, a finger is not a fork).

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