Judgmental Expat East Coaster Visits California Dunkin' Donuts, Whines About His Experience
Dave Lieberman Look, ma, no line!
I'll admit it. I was one of those breathless hype monsters who posted with glee about the impending opening of Dunkin' Donuts in California. I grew up in New Jersey; Dunkin' coffee flowed through my veins so early and so often it probably stunted my growth. To this day, the thought of a Dunkin' Donuts French cruller makes me salivate.
I tracked their every move. I even allowed their PR company to rip off my post about how to order coffee. I literally couldn't wait--and then a friend of mine sent me updates about the line at the first location in Santa Monica that included the words "hundreds" and "hours" and "blocks". I couldn't drag myself all the way to the People's Republic of Santa Monica to fight for parking and wait hours and hours for a doughnut and coffee.
Dave Lieberman Definitely not the run-down lunch counter look of most Dunkin' Donuts locations.
But then, another location opened, this time in Downey, and without the hellacious queues of transplanted New Englanders. I made a beeline, only to be brought up short by the decor. I've never seen such a fresa Dunkin' Donuts in my entire life. Stone and wood and squashy chairs and recessed lighting? At a Dunkin' Donuts?
Nevertheless, I wasn't there to critique the Pier 1 Imports theme, so I approached the counter. "A large coffee regular, a French cruller, and a chocolate glazed," I said brightly, my New Jersey accent returning just in time.
She stared at me. "Regular? Like, black?"
"No, regular. Three creams, three sugars."
"Well, we have a station, but I can do it for you."
UH-OH...
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