The Trident

An anthropologist hoping to capture the essence of today’s Boulder could do worse than spend a day in the Trident with dark glasses and a notepad. This coffee shop cum used bookstore is everything our more Starbuckian javajoints aspire to be but aren’t: a meeting place, a haven, a place to debate the morning’s headlines, to eavesdrop on a lovers tiff, to glean spiritual counsel from the mutterings of a stranger, or simply to lose yourself in your studies or your fiction or your neuroses.

Like a neighborhood commons, the Trident welcomes wanderers but is perhaps more proprietarily the domain of regulars – familiar faces whose latte preferences the expert barristas merely confirm with a nod, whose favorite tables and distinct voices are etched in everyone else’s memories, and whose presence is never surprising, indeed whose extended absence might bring about a subliminal unease.

Hide behind those glasses with that notepad for long enough and you’ll witness the protean quality of the place, a paradoxical space that is at once instantly identifiable and infinitely reconfigurable. Hide too long and you’re part of the exhibit.

L.V. Torio

About L.V. Torio

L.V. Torio has been around Boulder since the 80's, long enough to have witnessed the Aristocrat Diner's transformation into the Gap for Kids, an event that for him signaled the beginning of the end (with apologies to Greil Marcus) of the "old, weird Boulder." Fortunately, he finds the new Boulder equally weird, not least in the way its food and drink purveyors consistently stir the imagination, enliven the palate, and gratify the gut.

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