"the world is just...different"

"Soon we'll just be a memory. In fact, someone, some foolish person will probably think it's a tribute to this city, the way it keeps changing on you, the way you can never count on it, or something. I know, because that's the sort of thing I'm always saying. But the truth is, I'm heartbroken. I feel as if part of me has died..."

The Shop Around the Corner? Yeah. It was called Bibo Juice. It was "a lone reed, standing tall, waving boldly in the corrupt sands of commerce."

There was no Fox Books. There was only this real world. And sometimes, no matter how hard you work, things just don't work out the way you want them to...

There will be no Acai when Emily goes home for Christmas. No jokes about crazy managers and eye rolls in the direction of that horrible ever-posessed yogurt machine. No Whistlers, Astorias, or wheatgrass. No more nutella or mad experimental Americana crepes.

Just three empty spaces in Portland; three colorful monuments to good times and good food.

[So, go ahead and call me a raging sentimentalist. I am.]

Bibo was my transition into adulthood. It was my first job and my first experience with the real world. The world of responsibility: paying taxes, knowing the alarm code, balancing the till, staying late and getting up early.

A sheltered little homeschooled girl got a controlled taste of the depravity of man and the endless searching of broken people. I learned that tatoos, piercings, a tough exterior, islam, or homosexuality do not make a person untouchable or immune to the need of God's saving grace.

I learned a lot about working with people: even if she is a jerk, she's still your manager, and so you still have to respect her. I learned that getting a smile from the head of the company makes it a lot easier to work hard for the rest of the day. I learned my boss sounds really funny at 7 am on a Saturday morning when you call him to ask how to fix the stupid computer.

I learned that ice cream needs to look pretty, that "the nasty" makes great worm food, and there are crazy environmentalists who think license plate covers are causing the depletion of the ozone. I discovered that sometime singing and dancing makes the mopping go faster and that if the yogurt machine explodes while you have 20 customers [one of them being Becky], it's okay to run to the walk-in and scream, because it's sound proof. I learned that if you treat someone like royalty, they'll thank you and be your best customer for life. I learned that people in crappy service jobs deserve some slack [occasionally].

I learned that making friends with the coffee people is your best bet for survival, that lemonade is the best wheatgrass chaser, and that ninjas are cool. I learned how to make kick-butt custard, that cleaning mats isn't as awful as they make it sound, and that people [david] have really great stories if you just listen. I learned how to make the veggie display beautiful, the crepes round and not too crispy, and the smoothies actually smooth.

We philosophized about society ala high school kids, scoffed at mall food and poor Bibo substitutes, and ate a lot of ice cream. We created theories about personality types and their smoothie counterparts. We dressed up, talked, laughed, had parties and meetings-that-always-turned-out-to-be-parties, scavenger hunted, and took a lot of crazy pictures.

So many people come to mind from my years with Bibo:
David and Cheri
Millicent
the Garfields
Jenn
Skylarr
Adam
Ire
Lalita
Kate
Kisha
Beth
Jonathan
Alyssa
Evie
Larissa
Chad
the Market People
the Torre gang
the Flower girls
the Cheshire crowd
the Fish Market and Annie
Schmizza
the happy Sunshine guy
customers like: Steve, Becky, Lynn, Rosie, Peter, Pete, Mandy, Rod, Super ATT man, Todd, Greg, the Grant kids, Audrey and Nicholas, and so many others. [i can see their faces, but i can't remember their names.]

Thank you for the good times and the lessons, all.

Portland has truly lost a treasure.

rest in peace, bibo.