This sign was posted on the side of Bob's Java Hut. Maybe it's still there--I don't know, I don't go there anymore. For one thing, I've never owned a motorcycle and am therefore not cool enough to show up, a fact I've been reminded of the few times I went, by the patrons craning in their seats to glare at me as I walked up to the counter to get a drink.
I've also had bad luck with the service there. People like to call themselves baristas but that's actually a title that has to be earned through training and performance. You don't become a barista just because management taught you which button to press on the espresso machine. But I ordered a mocha and the woman behind the counter was irritable and taking it out on me. Having worked food service, I know what a bad customer looks like and I go out of my way to be a good customer. I smiled, I said "please" and "thank you," and she couldn't get rid of me fast enough. As a last-ditch effort to dislodge the stick from her ass, I tipped her $1.50 for a drink that could only have been just above two bucks. She focused on me patronizingly and paused to deliver a ham-fistedly sarcastic "ohthankyouverymuch."
It was 'round about that time I decided this place was doing fine without my patronage.
Regardless, the sign is very funny. I'm also not a fan of poetry, though I like it in exceptional cases, and only in print form. I never like to hear it delivered, unless it's Jeff Buckley's recitation of E.A. Poe's "Ulalume."
I've had this phonecam image sitting on my computer forever. Now that it's stored online I can delete it. I'm going to go through other Minneapolis photos in my collection and treat them the same way: reflection and deletion.