After a week and a half in Paris, I have two observations about the cafes there.

Thing 1: Many of them have outdoor seating, and most of that seating faces the sidewalk.

Thing 2: When you order coffee, you get espresso.

On the first point, initially I thought it was odd. Diners sit next to each other, table between them, watching the pedestrians go by. I quickly came to appreciate it. I’m an unabashed people watcher, and Paris has a wild assortment of humanity to watch. The simple act of changing chair orientation also had the effect (for me, anyway) of changing the dining experience. When two diners face each other, a natural capsule forms between them. Sitting next to each other and facing the street, that capsule felt no less strong. Yet it also now included a whole world of other diners and passers-by.

On the second point, drip coffee appears to be a rarity. I think I only saw one coffee maker - the one in our rental apartment. I love coffee in all forms and concentrations, but Paris gave me renewed affection for espresso. Even the quick crepe stops - places where you might expect an inferior shot - did it justice. I savored every demitasse, especially since a single shot cost 3 euro, or about $4.50.

About a week after returning the the States I had a chance to go to Caribou, one of my favorite java haunts. Guess what I ordered? After I got my drink, a double shot for under $2 (Go U.S.A.!), I strolled to the outdoor seating. With my chair facing the sidewalk, I sat and whittled away at a stack of library books. Between chapters, I’d take a sip and watch the world go by.

Ed. note: This is the latest in a when-I-feel-like-it series of meditations on “third places,” spots to spend time that aren’t home or work.

Starbucks takes a lot of flak, but I say cut it some slack. Of course, that attitude shows my bias toward coffee - if it’s hot and black, I’m down. Set aside for a second criticisms of the business model (e.g., they’re an evil globalhypermegacorp, they burn their coffee, they focus on marketing incidentals like CDs as much as coffee). Forget all that, and think about the atmosphere.

For today’s visit, I spent $2 on a grande “bold” coffee. If I had wanted to go sugar and fat hog-wild, I could’ve dropped $5 on a frilly drink. Either way, I’m still under the threshold of a 3rd dimension: about the cost of the ticket to a movie. And, as when I see a movie, I can tie myself up for a few hours in Starbucks. If I break down and get a second drink to fuel a particularly involved writing session, the out-of-pocket remains under the 3rd dimension bar.

Starbucks generally encourages patrons to come in, order an expensive drink and leave. That’s how they maximize the per-customer revenue. Yet, they don’t seem to mind people hanging out doing 3rd dimension activities. As I look around, I see people on their laptops (the wi-fi has it’s own, seperate price, unlike a lot of more “local” coffee joints), a couple playing cards, and others reading.

Unlike other locally-owned coffeehouses, I’ve never seen a Starbucks barista ask a patron to leave because that person spent more time than money. I don’t doubt it could happen, but I’ve never seen it. Starbucks makes too much money, I think, to worry about patrons lazing about. The important difference is that, as I laze about writing, I’ve seen perhaps two dozen other patrons walk through the door, and walk right back out with their Frappuccinos.

All in all, Starbucks makes a great 3rd dimension, provided you don’t mind the commercialism. You don’t have to buy a CD or the latest Tazo gift pack. Headphones easily drown out the self-promoting music, which is more than I can say for the locally-owned coffee spots here in St. Petersburg, The Globe and Cafe Bohemia (which has free wi-fi but, mysteriously, no Web site). Those places have their own charms, but I usually can’t hear myself think when I’m in them, particularly on weekends.

At times, I have attention-deficit troubles around the house. The TV needs babysitting (it’s not gonna watch itself), or the dishes need doing. My Starbucks is a short drive away, and it allows me to dodge distractions long enough to actually finish a blog post or an email to a friend, or whatever.

Ed. note: This is the latest in a when-I-feel-like-it series of meditations on “third places,” spots to spend time that aren’t home or work.

The best record store in St. Petersburg is Daddy Kool Records. Bananas Music has a better selection (actually an enormous selection), but something about Daddy Kool reminds me of record stores of my teens and twenties: dusty affairs with big selections of new and used CDs and vinyl.

What makes a record store a third dimension? As I wrote before, the barrier for entry falls at or under the cost of a movie ticket. In short, cheap, public ways to kill time.

A record store may not offer a lot of stimulus for the non-music fanatic. But, a person incline to purchase anything from jazz to country to hip-hop can spend hours thumbing through stacks. I fall into that category, and shudder to think how many weeks of my life I’ve spent digging through dusty crates of music. In college in East Lansing, Mich., I went to Flat, Black & Circular so much they could’ve charged me rent. After I moved to the Ann Arbor, Mich., area my disposable income went to Wazoo Records and PJ’s.

Wait, you keep talking about spending cash. That doesn’t sound like a viable third dimension.

Yes, I’ve dropped more than my share of ducats in record stores - and probably your share too. Just as often, I’d spend time but no money. The soft, dusty act of running my fingers through vinyl LPs offers a meditative comfort. The clacks of jewel cases as I speed through the used CD selection lends a sort of inspired energy.

Today, I spent $16 and two hours in Daddy Kool. If I hadn’t gotten greedy, I could’ve just as easily spent $8 (the theoretical threshold for a third dimension). The titles I bought today: The Coup’s fourth release
Party Music and The Replacements’ Don’t Tell a Soul.

A big-boxish mall store might have stocked both titles, but not for $8 a piece. A big-boxer also wouldn’t have offered the kind of personal service that a store like Daddy Kool can. The clerk at Daddy Kool gave honest, informed opinions on each. He also hipped me to a couple upcoming concerts he knew I’d want to know about. Of course, being on a first-name basis with the guy behind the counter helps.

Readers probably noticed that I opened this post with the term “record store,” even though vinyl long ago lapsed as the dominant format. Old habits are hard to break. As digital distribution grows into dominance, I hope iTunes Music Store and other sites don’t force me to give up the record story experience. It stands as one of my favorite third dimensions, and clicking through the tracks on a download site just doesn’t have the same feel.

P.S.: Daddy Kool will be moving from their Central Avenue location to a yet-to-be disclosed new storefront at the end of September. A developer plans to raze the whole block to put up yet another condo tower. I wish them luck with their move.

Ed. note: This is the first in a when-I-feel-like-it series of meditations on “third places,” spots to spend time that aren’t home or work.

I’ve attended two baseball games recently, a Tampa Bay Devil Rays game and a Clearwater Threshers game. The former, I think, cost too much to qualify as a viable “third space.” At the stadium, I spent almost $25 for an evening’s entertainment. That adds up for a family.

For argument, let’s put the cost of admission to the third dimension at about the cost of a movie, per person. Better less, but no more. The Threshers game was $6 for a decent spot off third base close enough to hear the players’ chatter. A bank promotion gave each ticketholder $1 in a gimmicky deposit envelope. Net: $5. (Grass seats were even cheaper at $3.) The game started at 7 p.m., and lasted until 10 p.m. A mere $5 for three hours of entertainment is a steal. Even if I had eaten at the stadium, like I did at the Rays game (a pretzel and a soda big enough to drown in), I bet I couldn’t gotten out for under $12. If your kids like popcorn, a baseball game runs cheaper than a movie.

The Threshers “dismantled” the Brevard County Manatees 11-5. It was fun to watch. The Manatee dugout even threw a fit at one point, adding to the drama.

I’ve had an indifference to sports in the past, though I’m learning. As a third dimension, a baseball game wouldn’t come first to my mind. Still, it makes the grade. It was cheap, and gives guys an activity where they can talk without having to make eye contact.