In this world of huge corporations, with stores popping up like clones of one another everywhere you look, it can be refreshing to go somewhere totally unique. As much as I love the speed of Starbucks and the efficiency (and one can't forget the ever-present perkiness) of their employees, something about the "corporateness" of it unnerves me.

Somehow, I still find myself a frequent customer there despite my reservations about big business and my idealistic notions about supporting local stores. Tired of my hypocrisy, I decided that my next mocha would come from somewhere found only in Knoxville. I considered my options; there was the Golden Roast over by the library, Java in the Old City, and Mocha Cabana beneath Knoxville Place. Finally I decided on the aptly named 11th Street Espresso House.

 I walked to 11th Street mildly apprehensive. Would they be able to make me a white chocolate mocha the way Starbucks did? Would it be the eclectic haven I'd been searching for, where I could sit and look morose and write angst-filled poetry? All this I pondered as I made my way there. The building from the outside looked promising, a turn of the century Victorian with a large front porch with assorted tables and chairs scattered across it. Inside was even more promising, the walls were painted vibrant colors with random pieces of art scattered about. There was an interesting collection of people sitting around sipping their coffees. A man who I thought to be a hobo until he pulled out a cell phone that cost twice what my own did, a girl who seemed to be tortured by whatever ideas she was having who would furiously scribble, then look about to see who noticed her brilliance; and a seemingly normal middle aged business man deep in conversation with a girl who proudly displayed a hot pink mullet and more tattoos than clothes. Was I falling in love?

I went up to order my coffee from a lady who, while cheerful, would not have met the perkiness standard set by Starbucks (not that I'm complaining). Before I'd had a chance to scan even a portion of the books laying about my coffee was ready. I grabbed a Metro Pulse and headed out to the porch for a moment of truth. I took a sip and all my fears were gone: I have found my coffee oasis. While in truth, I'm sure I will have a Starbucks from time to time (it's just so damn convenient!) I have decided to make a conscientious effort to spend more time at 11th Street Espresso House. As should you- it's the coffee shop we've all been searching for.