Flying out of Milwaukee from Mitchell Airport can be a breeze. Lines are often non-existent or remarkably short, employees are friendly and unharried, and the airport exudes a sense of calm unlike many of its peers (and especially O’Hare just down the road).
But, when it comes to coffee options, you are pretty much stuck with Starbucks.
Don’t get us wrong, we love the double points you get if you are flying Delta and you know what you are going to get.
Still, for us at least, the coffee-related joy in leaving Milwaukee begins when we touch down in a new place. In the last year, the two of us have gotten into a habit of scouting coffee locations for wherever we are traveling and then sending each other photos of our favorite spots and commenting on the coffee, vibe, and quirks as we explore. And within the last decade, the coffee scene has really exploded to the point that you can expect to find something to explore anywhere.
As we were planning this post on coffee and traveling we thought about going two routes. The first would be to talk about the joy of a new coffee shop in a new place: the comfortable familiarity of the descriptions of the brews, the smell, and many of the offerings paired with the new people, their distinct offerings, fun local quirks, and their coffee bag (at least for Gabe with his strange obsession and collection).
The other route, which we choose to go with, was in line with our goal of sharing stories. We therefore decided to share two of our own favorite memories for your reading pleasure.
Saúl
I am on a plane. I am on a plane headed to Alaska. I am on a plane headed to Alaska to visit my girlfriend. The stewardess is about to ask me if I want some coffee. It is still morning in Milwaukee. And as I continue to head westward, it's only getting earlier. My options are limited, either regular or decaf. Should I even say yes? I go for it and go with a black coffee. I really can’t be picky, especially while I am over 1,000+ feet in the air.
I wonder if at this altitude the coffee will help this flight go quicker. I also think about how a cafecito with a former college acquaintance landed me on this flight. What started as a coffee catch-up has blossomed into a relationship. I think about that day, while I am on the plane. It was a sunny day, the Anodyne in Walker’s Point was empty and I had ordered 2 cortados. My now girlfriend and I spent time reconnecting and reconstructing our paths post-Marquette. And as I sipped my cortado, I wanted time to pass a bit slower. But time has a funny way of sneaking up on you. Before I knew, I was running to another meeting and saying goodbye.
Time passed and it looked like the feelings were mutual. Although she lives in Alaska, we decided to go for it. And since then I have come to appreciate the power of lingering. It is funny how one coffee leads to another coffee; how one conversation leads to another city and slowly the seedlings planted by one cafecito blooms into a series of cafecitos.
My favorite coffee memory is one that happened in Milwaukee. But as I approach the beautiful city of Juneau with its mountains, I think about how a small coffee can turn into a trip to a place you never imagined visiting. So, when given the chance, say yes to a Cafecito.
Gabe
In early February, I was in San Diego for a conference, having been flown out and supported by a funding agency to do one panel. While the rest of the event was interesting--from conversations about AI to cutting edge work on stereotype threat to debates over work related to the Middle East--the draw of the San Diego coffee scene was admittedly a siren song for me. Spending too much time at breakfast google searching for the best coffee shops in San Diego, I came across rave reviews for one near the conference center. Achilles Coffee Roasters was said to have good bagels, coffee, and a fun name--I was sold.
Now, the place itself did not disappoint. I had a wonderful bagel sandwich, a great latte, and brought home a bag since I loved the “spartan” design. But as with any good coffee shop experience, the story of going there is what sticks in my head.As I ordered my coffee and food, I found one spot along the bar seating at the window. While it wasn’t the most comfortable of seats, the large windows and beautiful sunny day made it a fine option. I sat down, took out my computer, and crossed my legs, as I am apt to do.
Now, I have to give a bit of background. It was both National Marquette Day and my day to present at the conference, which of course meant I was wearing my gaudy but fun blue and gold Marquette socks.As I crossed my legs, a young man next to me quickly asked if I was connected to Marquette. Turns out he was a recent alum, in town for an entirely separate conference (San Diego is that kind of town), and lived in New York City blocks from where I grew up. We spent maybe three minutes talking and fifteen working and eating in silence next to each other, but the fleeting connection felt just right and fed into my caffeine boost and post-presentation endorphins. All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable moment of human connection in a “foreign” place, made possible by coffee.