Memoirs from a Coffee Shop

1996- The Grand Opening

I attended university on the island of Rugged Cape, where I was born and raised.  It is located on the Atlantic seaboard, tucked away along the coast and sometimes forgotten by the rest of the world. 

I graduated in 1994, but I had no future plans at that time so I decided the best thing to do was to take two years off to think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.  It was mainly an excuse to sleep all day and stay out at the bars during the nights.  This was a typical routine for people in their early twenties like me.  However, no matter how young you are, two years of doing nothing is more than enough time to make one realize that everyone should be doing something.   

I never liked the idea of working for someone else.  I was always fascinated with the idea of being my own boss, setting my own hours and deciding my own fate.  That dream, however, was difficult to achieve on this island.

Rugged Cape was a cluster of tiny communities built around one tiny city called Sinderley.  Although, an island known for its rugged beauty and picturesque coastlines, Rugged Cape is a mere empty shell of its former glory when the coal mines boomed and the steel plant belted out the island’s trademark bright orange clouds of smoke. 

Rugged Cape seems to be left behind by the rest of the modernized world.  The mines are gone, the steel is no more and the once bustling streets of the communities in Rugged Cape are virtually empty.  The shops have all but closed down and the unemployment rate has reached an all time high.

I live in Black Bay, an old mining town with a population of approximately twenty thousand people, located on the outskirts of Sinderley.  Black Bay offered little opportunity for young people.  It is easy to get caught up in the laid back, sometimes-lazy mentality in a town where the usual pastime is drinking and smoking. 

Another year was quickly coming to an end and I was determined to make a big splash in 1996.  After my two-year hiatus, I needed to make my grand debut, my big break in the world.  I desperately realized this one Saturday evening as I turned my head away from the TV only to observe the Bacardi rum bottles and the beer cans strewn across the kitchen counters. 

It was fight night, and my friends and I would gather regularly on these occasions to watch the big Pay Per View events.  I lived for these nights.  Nights like these were one of the reasons why I took two years off when I graduated from university. 

My small club of fight fans stocked up on rum and beer before the fight in preparation to watch future heavyweight champion Riddick Bowe take on Jorge Luis Gonzales in a ten round, non-title bout.  Those were Bowe’s glory years.  He was still in his prime and he had all his faculties and a multitude of talent, all of which would mysteriously disappear years later.  Bowe would beat up the harsh looking, mohawk wearing Gonzales on that night. 

My heart, however, wasn’t into that particular fight.  I could barely concentrate on what was happening.  My mind was racing with thoughts of moving ahead in the world and creating a venture that would be profitable and exciting. 

I envisioned the lifestyle of a successful