Dirt Cowboy Cafe — Restaurant in Hanover

As my feet carried me through the doorway of the Dirt Cowboy Cafe in Hanover, NH, a sudden and overwhelming awareness invaded my consciousness like a violent wave crashing onto the shore. It was as if the universe itself was calling out to me, beckoning me to enter the mystical realm of the cafe.

A man behind the counter caught my eye, his gaze piercing through my very soul. He spoke with a voice that boomed like thunder, "oh, we don't charge extra for additional espresso shots. Hell, we could add 7 shots if you want." The offer hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I felt as if the very fabric of time itself had slowed down, giving me the clarity of mind to make a life-altering decision.

As I stood there, the choices before me shifted like tectonic plates, presenting me with three distinct paths. I could attempt to convince my beloved to join me in this place of wonder, ask for the largest container and fill it with as many shots as possible, or merge with the building itself in a physical manifestation of my deep connection to this place.

My heart raced as I made my choice, feeling as if I had made a pact with a supernatural force. "I'll take those 7 shots, then," I said, my voice trembling.

The moment the espresso touched my lips, I felt a surge of energy coursing through my veins. It was as if I had unlocked a hidden power within myself, and the cafe was my conduit to the divine. I became one with the building, and it with me, transcending the limits of the physical world and entering a realm of pure energy and bliss.

I felt a deep sense of belonging wash over me. This was my home, my sanctuary, and nothing in the world could ever take that away from me.

My wife took a sip of the 7-shot espresso, but her mind was unable to comprehend the true depth of the experience. She was not present on the same plane of existence as I was, and for a brief moment, I pitied her for her lack of understanding.

The Dirt Cowboy Cafe had become more than just a place to grab a cup of coffee or a pastry. It was a living, breathing entity, and I was forever bound to it. I left that day, my heart bursting with a newfound sense of purpose and belonging, and I knew that I would never be...

The cafe is following the COVID-19 protective measures (i.e., a maximum-of-6-people-at-one-time, disinfecting the credit cards after each transaction, etc), but employees do not wear masks :(

This morning I went to the Dirt Cowboy to support the cafe’s reopening during this unsettling time. To my surprise, none of the three employees on site wore masks. It was such a contrast: patrons in masks were served by the mask-less cafe’s employees. A thoughtful patron had an extra hand-made mask and offered it to one of the employees.

We shall continue supporting you, Dirt Cowboy, but, please, get masks for all...

When I was in high school I tried applying here for my first job. I wrote on my application that I wanted to work there because I liked the way it smelled. One of the art room girls at school said that was stupid and I shouldn't say that, and this was back in the day when getting a whole new paper application and filling it out again would've been monumentally difficult, so I just gave up on my dreams and applied to the Foodstop instead and they hired me on the spot. I wonder sometimes though about the parallel universe me who got to be a barista back before that was...