Panera - ALL THE SIPS

but none of the safe haven

Just Another Blog Post #4

For the last two months, I have become a huge fan of Panera. I never really cared too much for it, but a friend of mine told me about something Panera does that might be the deal—or steal—of the century. It’s called the Unlimited Sip Club, and it has changed my life.

For $14.95 a month (first two months free), it’s unlimited iced and hot coffee, iced and hot teas, and fountain drinks. Yeah, I know. They must be insane.

I told some friends about this at a social function at a local coffee shop, where I refuse to pay for something I essentially get for free at Panera.
“I guess I am a sellout,” I said. “I am writing way more.”
“No wonder people were overdosing on Supercharged Lemonade,” a friend told me.

I didn’t know about this story. After reading the article, I decided that I definitely drink too much caffeine. But how can I stop? I am allowed to order a new drink every two hours. Even my favorite, the Pomegranate Hibiscus Iced Tea, which they have to pour in the back for some reason, is free. And I repeat: I can order it every two hours. I am going to Panera multiple times a day. I am writing like mad. In fact, I am writing this in Panera right now.

The Broccoli Cheese soup isn’t bad, so I give them a little bit of money.

But otherwise, I am fleecing them, and I don’t feel bad one bit. I do wish I could have tried that Supercharged Lemonade. I think I really missed out on something very special.

This past week I was in Chicago. For some reason I booked a flight that got into Chicago at 7 in the morning. My Air B&B wasn’t available until 3, and my friend wouldn’t arrive until after that. Did I panic? No. Why would I? I am a Panera Unlimited Sip Club member. I would find a Panera, post up, and get some writing done.

I know Chicago, and sure, it would be a pain in the ass lugging my luggage on and off the train, but it might also be an adventure. How many Paneras could I visit? I wondered. The first Panera was in the Loop. I got off the Orange Line at Roosevelt, took the 18 bus to Canal, and walked a few blocks. The bus was on time, and I found a spot. My shoulders weren’t hurting too badly by the time I saw the Panera sign walking up Canal. When I got there, I noticed something off. There was no café.

I looked at the sign again: Panera ToGo. Cue sad sound effect. I was crushed.

This definitely dampened my plans a bit. It wasn’t even 9 a.m. yet, and now I started worrying if the other Chicago-based Paneras were also ToGo hybrids. I hopped on my phone and found another Panera on Grand off the Red Line. Does it have a café? Apple Maps didn’t say. It couldn’t be another ToGo. It had to have a café. I found some strength, turned around, and headed back to the 18 bus to get back to the trains.

On my way to the second Panera, I passed a Starbucks that I was familiar with. It was the very same Starbucks where I sat in 2009 when I decided to quit Bubba Gump’s Seafood and move to Virginia. That Starbucks had a café. I was tempted to pay for an iced coffee for the first time in two months, but I decided to keep trucking up State Street to find Panera. I passed a Gordon Ramsay Burger restaurant, which seemed like a good idea for lunch, but it wasn’t even 10 a.m. yet. After two more blocks, I found another Panera ToGo. This one looked like it had just been converted.

Is this a joke? I thought. Yep, a joke on me. I went to Starbucks, paid for a cold brew, and posted up in their café. It was nice being in the city and strange having this particular Starbucks serve as a safe haven during two very different crises in my life. Can I really trust Panera anymore? Should I cancel my Unlimited Sips membership? I got a little self-reflective writing done and then headed back around the block to indulge myself with an overpriced, mediocre burger at Gordon Ramsay’s before landing back on the Red Line.

I eventually heard from my friend and poet, Steven Blythe, who told me he could pick me up by the Berwyn stop of the Red Line. Perfect. A Panera was only a block from that stop.

There was no way the third Panera I would visit that day would have no dining room.

But it didn’t. In fact, as if God herself was laughing at me, this happened to be the very first Panera TOGO to ever open.

Perhaps in some way, the real beginning of my frustrations that day. I ended up posting up at a nice little coffee shop on the corner of Broadway and Berwyn called The Lost Hours. A weirdly fitting spot for me to land on an early Tuesday afternoon in Chicago.