http://photoblog.statesman.com/grandfathers-converseCoffee Blog Confession:From time to time, I get stage fright when ordering coffee. I’d like to think this is not unique to me, and that other people also experience that momentary, paralyzing sense of panic upon reaching the espresso bar, but . . . perhaps not. The funny thing is that four out of every five times, I order the same beverage. The pressure isn’t necessarily in the making of the decision so much as in worrying that someone will scorn the decision made. This sounds every bit as ridiculous as it is, but follow me here for a minute. Last week, I had a meeting at Zeitgeist Art and Coffee, a cafe in an area of town which I almost never visit. It was a morning meeting during a particularly busy hour for coffee, meaning that I spent a good bit of time standing in line observing people and being observed. The predominant crowd was made up of 40-something professionals, and within seconds of walking in the door, I was made aware by the raised eyebrows of a woman walking out with her latte that my shoes did not fit in. Yes, my shoes. It was like being the only Mac in a PC commercial. You may often hear that people will judge your shoes, but you don’t often catch it actually happening. This woman was not subtle. My worn Converse instantly caught her attention, and from the top of my plaid shirt collar to the hem of my trendy jeans, I was most unequivocally judged, because of my shoes. Then out the door she went with her coffee, leaving me standing in line feeling self-conscious, awkward, and really stressed out about ordering. Experts–probably the same experts who say you should worry about people judging your shoes–say that your personality is evident in your coffee order. And though I adamantly disagree with this assertion, I still feel an inexplicable desire to order coffee in such a way as might raise the surrounding population’s opinion of me. That moment of uncertainty, as a line of people accumulates behind you and the cashier feigns patience, is not a pleasant start to a day. So it is generally my advice that coffee drinkers firmly decide, before stepping up to the counter, what they want and how to order it. In point of fact, I had already decided what I wanted before I even got to the cafe that day. And then some lady and her judgmental glancing at my well-used Chucks completely threw me off my game. . . . That this entire internal dialogue took place while I was in line (between reading pages of Seattle Weekly’s cover story) gives you an idea of the business volume Zeitgeist does on a Friday morning. Competing with a Starbucks just down the block, they get people into and out of line far more quickly than most independent cafes do, but the line itself can be substantial. Zeitgeist’s claim to fame, as a cafe, is really in its connection to the art community. Eleven years of art displays are catalogued on their website, and well worth a look, although a web browser doesn’t do justice to the effect the cafe itself has on art displays, with its brick walls, wrought-iron accents, and the curious collection of espresso pots and percolators which line shelves behind the bar.As far as coffee-ordering goes, the baristas were extremely friendly and non-threatening, and I ended up with what I’d originally planned for my Friday morning: a rice-milk mocha and a separate shot of espresso. Unfortunately, the espresso’s potential was disguised by a harsh, ashy finish, and the mocha was extremely sweet. The demitasse used to convey the espresso, however, was aesthetically pleasing and uniquely well-suited to espresso tasting.The overall verdict? Zeitgeist is one of the better options in its immediate neighborhood, great for art and community, but not a destination for coffee. If you want a place to meet with friends, the space is fantastic. If you need to grab coffee before hopping on the train, it’s the place to go . . . Just be sure you wear your nice shoes.Follow Voracious on Twitter and Facebook.