When I found out they had opened a Starbucks at the North Pole, I absolutely had to go and see for myself. Surely, this would cause some bizarre mecca-like movement for every lover of weird places to visit. Once I finally arrived in the cold tundra I was pleased to see that Starbucks didn’t disappoint – they had made the very tiny, little building into a “snow-mobile drive thru” that looked exactly like a snowy, frosted gingerbread house - incredibly tactful for Santa Clause and the Elves that were surely in the nearby vicinity.
There was one man running the inside, as they didn’t get many customers (wonder why?). He told me they didn’t have anywhere near a normal selection, as shipments were so difficult to receive up there. He had regular coffee, mochas and caramels, one type of milk, and no whip cream or little sprinkled toppings. They were served in pewter jugs for hot or glass tumblers for cold, unless you were on the run (say, in a hurry to get to that next snow bank) then you could get a bio-degradable cup.
As we were talking about how he had no food items, he stopped mid-sentence and waved his arm off toward the distant glacial hills. A tall, shadowing figure loomed nearby. Startled for only a moment, I realized it was just an old dark tree limb, left from the construction of the building. But the worker's face had a touch of worry. He continued to gesture into the distance.
“There’s a nice tornado spout out there, do you see it?”
It was a thin spout that stretched from clouds to ground. I didn’t realize the North Pole got tornadoes, but I supposed the wind could whip things around anywhere. We continued talking, but the wind picked up. Very soon that tornado was close to us.
“May I come inside?” I asked the man, already stepping in and laughing lightly as if it was preposterous for him to reject me. The wind grew powerful and loud; it kicked around snow and debris. He stepped aside and closed the door after me. There was barely room for a third person, I couldn't imagine him working an 8-hour shift in there. Standing inside didn’t make a large difference, the wind roared at the walls and we couldn’t hear each other. Snow crept in to safety through cracks in the molding and windows. A truck catapulted through the air as the wind reached its climax and the world settled.
We closed up shop after that, the man decided to show me where he lived with the other employees in a small town they created.
Not far off was the truly amazing site: a bio-dome. We rode his snow mobile through a set of glass doors into a parking area and walked into a phenomenal world bathed in synthetic warmth and sunshine with a 24-hour sun cycle very unlike the arctic north; there were plants growing happily, dirt trails, small houses, a refreshing lake, people riding bicycles and golf-carts. He introduced me to a group of friends – laid-back, adventuresome, unmotivated types – who obviously enjoyed their paradise in the middle of nowhere with no real responsibilities except running the small stores and that Starbucks. To them, there were smarter people who dealt with the science behind the bio-dome and even the shipping of goods to their little stores. All they had to do was order goods and a month later it arrived. They showed me around their phenomenal town via a well-worn dirt road. Tire swings on trees and playgrounds were rampant, but children were not. Most of the people seemed to be young adults, but their town was growing as more people grew interested in the lifestyle. It was happy there.
They welcomed me openly and during a ceremony that night they dressed in silky blue robes and gemstones and walked me through a beautiful part of the city as we all sang made-up songs about living happily at the North Pole thanks to Starbucks.
No comments:
Post a Comment