Frozen Monkey makes me feel alive

I initially started this post on a torn piece of paper from the back of the current book I’m reading, a collection of travel stories from the year 2002. My moto today is anything is possible if you make it happen.

I get great satisfaction eating at the Frozen Monkey cafe in Hoboken. The service is terrible, and no, that is not a typo above that I take great satisfaction in eating here. There tend to be long waits for simple a menu to be dropped on your table, your order of eggs takes as long as making mashed potatoes from scratch, yet lately it has been friendly and not as daunting as I recall from the past.

Maybe this is because I eat often by myself and don’t notice these subtle nuances anymore. I like it here because its one of the few places in Hoboken with character. That’s not to say the various bars and restaurants plastered all around this small city don’t  hold true to the northern New Jersey joints most would picture in their minds; they do exist. But this place represents the character that shouldn’t exist and isn’t expected to.

Local, contemporary art hangs on the walls – changed every few months to support the local artists. Bright, vibrant shadows drape the walls in lime green, blood-red orange tables and chairs fill the room, and a coffee counter sits in the corner as retro as a 70’s polyester suit. I come here, despite the service, because the food is flat-out good, healthy, and cheap.

I make eye contact with a cute boy with shaggy hair and blue eyes sipping coffee at the table across from mine. They play music that I would listen to in my own apartment or at least would be interested enough to want to. I ignore the screeching laughs of the university girls who come in to gossip and the nannies who wipe spit from the spoiled children’s mouths while their parents are off working at investment banks in Manhattan.

It’s Sunday and I’m bored. It’s sunny but cold. The snow is shoveled against the curbs, occasionally missing someones head as it falls from the apartment window sills above on Washington street. Today is my day in Hoboken and I feel alive.

So, what did you think?

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