On my way to work, nearly every morning (though I would appreciate it if you don’t tell my fiance this), I make a stop at Dunkin Donuts to get a medium french vanilla coffee with skim milk and two Splendas . For $1.89, I get a piping hot cup of goodness. It is hard to put into words how much enjoyment I get out of a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee. For me, it is about so much more than the coffee.
Growing up in New England, Dunkin Donuts are a staple. On nearly every corner, you see one. I remember receiving a text from my sister once when she came to visit me when I was living in Boston that said something like this, “I just walked 5 minutes from the T (the subway, for those of you not from Boston) to your house and passed 4 Dunkin Donuts.” In my home town alone, we had 5 or 6 Dunkin Donuts scattered around… and no high school.
From 5th grade to 8th grade, I was often driven to school in the morning by my mother who worked at the elementary school down the street. Many mornings we stopped at Dunkin Donuts so I could run in and get a maple frosted donut and pick up a medium de-caf with milk and sweet n’ low. I owe her my love of Dunkin Donuts coffee; I think it must be genetic.
This morning, when I stopped in for my coffee, I walked up and stood in line waiting to place my order. Before I even opened my mouth, my coffee was put on the counter, prepared to perfection. It is an incredible thing, when in a city of over 8 million people, the manager of a small, but very busy Dunkin Donuts, knows who I am and how I like my order. I think it took my fiance 6 years to figure this out.
And this is why I love Dunkin Donuts so much. The coffee is good, the memories are close my heart, and they provide the “small town comfort” that is so easily lost in the city.
America runs on Dunkin… and I am proud to be an American!
The Little Things 