Sitting in one of the snug maroon arm chairs in the middle of South Stokes, I feel as if I’m in the middle of all the Boston College action. Straight in front of me I can watch the stream of students and teachers alike hustling to and from class. To my right I see our fellow students rush into the building passing by easels with posters advertising the various and plentiful events that the university hosts. I also can see the occasional tour group getting a glimpse of this stereotypical college location—one of the sole places one can see students and teachers studying, socializing, eating, or taking meetings; all the things that high school student will be doing in a few short months. Behind me I can hear students scuttling to class. From my seat, I can people-watch and wonder what they are listening to on their headphones, typing on their computers, or writing in their notebooks. It does not feel as stale as O’Neill, but not as hectic as Mac or The Rat. It is this golden little spot to sit in during the day.
What grabs my attention the most is what is to my left: the line for coffee growing and shrinking throughout the day. At nine in the morning it is tranquil. There is a select group of us who somehow manage to do what not many college students would willingly choose to do: get up before nine in the morning to do work rather than sleep until our first class. The roar of the coffee machine is not as frequent and conversations take place at a whisper. A few people may trickle through the line, but for most of the hour, the baristas are able to set up the pastries in the display case, wipe up the counters, and clean the cups and spoons they use. Occasionally, I have seen a barista sitting on the maroon couch to the right of the bar casually sipping her coffee and tapping on her phone.
Unfortunately, the tranquility promptly ends at 9:50. The second rush of students streams into the line. We are so desperate to get our caffeine fix that the line grows and bends past the table section to the chair section. And boy does the volume get turned up.
First, the chatter increases, then the shuffles of people walking to their next class or into the growing line can be heard, then the chairs squeaking as people leave tables and others grab them. The Chocolate Bar is running on overdrive. The baristas are consistently calling people up to the registers to keep the line moving. The coffee machines grinding the beans, the gargling of steaming milk, and even ice plunking into plastic cups can be heard from my seat.
As people wait to pick up their iced coffee, chai latte, iced caramel macchiato, or any other concoction that will boost their energy, there is the murmur of awkward small talk—a standard type of conversation one hears at a coffee shop. It comes out of that moment where you bump into that person you sort of know and then have to find a point of conversation because neither of you are leaving until you get your coffee.
Chit-chat is expected in certain social situations, but not many people truly care for it. It is supposed to fill a certain amount of time that is too long to stand silently, but too short to hold a long discussion about what each of you are up to these days. These little chats tend to take place in places too public with people too unfamiliar to you to hold a deeper, more meaningful conversation. At the Chocolate Bar, you are unable to escape it while waiting for your coffee or sitting next to someone in the large maroon chairs. Hence, you mention the weather—“I can’t believe how warm it’s getting!”—your classes –“What class are you heading to?”—or the weekend—“Are you doing anything Friday night?” Many times, you ask the questions to be polite, but do not listen to the answer since you do not actually care about how they went shopping on Newbury Street last weekend. Coming up with light, short topics of discussion can be obnoxious—and perhaps a bit daunting—but it is a staple of human interaction. It shows that you can communicate with others, and it can allow one to reconnect with another that they have not seen for a while.
When the barista shouts out “iced mocha,” there tends to be a sense of relief of getting out of the uncomfortable situation—also because you can inject yourself with your fix of caffeine that all of us students rely on to get through the day. But the Chocolate Bar can allow for more than shallow conversations. It provides tables and chairs that are built for discussions, just as much as for studying.
People come to the Chocolate Bar to get something out of it. Most come for the drinks and pastries—though not for the chocolates that this place is named for. Others, like me, come for a place to study. And some come for meetings and interviews. Most days I notice a student sitting across a table from an adult engaged in a dialogue that constitutes another standard coffee-shop conversation—coffee shops are frequented for interviews and meetings and the Chocolate Bar is no exception.
Through what I see and what I hear around me while sitting in my own armchair, I get a little taste of everything Boston College has to offer. I can see students walking to class and studying. But I also hear students talk about their club meetings and weekend outings and hear mumbles of interviews and group project meetings.
There are two different atmospheres in the Chocolate Bar: one is of students who power walk to class, only looking straight ahead or down into their phones; who grab their coffee and hurry off; who sit down and are completely zoomed into their work. Those people do not slow down and look around. I have to admit that I am one of those people sometimes. But I am also like the people who sit down and relax; who talk to their friends; who sit in the big Boston College colored chairs to do work, but notice the area around them.
In college, it is easy to get lost in our routine schedules and not take a breath—unless it is on the weekend. You grab that coffee to get that caffeine in order to keep moving. You may grab a seat, but take one look at that planner and get that tense feeling that accompanies stress. But, if you pick up your coffee, take a seat, and breathe, you may notice the remarkable microcosm that is the Chocolate Bar. Sit, look out the window, watch all the other people flowing around you, listen in on conversations about classes and weekend plans. It will hit you that you are in college, you are a student at Boston College, this is your home, this is where you belong.
Oh The Places Carolyn Can Go 