My Back-Up Substitute Living Room

When I'm at college, I don't have a living room. So I've been forced to find a replacement. Coffee shops. On Saturday, I desired one of my substitute living rooms, to be distracted from my inability to understand Algebra.

My favorite substitute is Coffee Emporium, because it is close and because the coffee is fantastic. However, I hate remembering change for the meter (not to mention parallel parking), so at times I fall on my back-up substitutes. Most of them are Starbucks.

So where would I go?
I don't like two in particular, because they are just entirely too busy.
Another I don't like because it has weird hours.
And there are several that are just too far away.

So I selected the Secret Starbucks, whose location I am sworn never to reveal. When I arrived I remembered what I dislike about that starbucks. The music. I walked in and heard some squally bluegrass chorus. Why do they play music like this? It is not in Kentucky (at least, I don't think it's in Kentucky). But they often seem to play music that is just too nasal, too twangy, too bluegrassy, too country for me.

In annoyance, I mused how the non-busy Good Music Starbucks would have been a better option. They play Dean Martin and Andy Williams and Ella Fitzgerald as often as not. One night I remember knowing and liking every song they played. I could, perhaps, have gone to The [other] Secret Starbucks. But I don't remember what type of music they play, and it is just a bit outside of my driving radius.

So I sat and thought how bitter it is to have no say in the music played in your own back-up substitute living room. As I sat in mid-glower, Louis Armstrong came over the speakers singing Let's Fall in Love. Followed by a croony guitar player. Followed by a pretty wavery French song. So I smiled and was at peace with the Secret Starbucks.