Come to our ordinary coffee shop, which we’ve opened up on the bottom floor of the now abandoned warehouse space, formerly housing the immersive theatrical experience, Sleep No More. No need to purchase tickets over Eventbrite to be scanned at our door, because this coffee shop is not a work of immersive theater. No no. You can trust us when we say that this is an actor-free space.

Here at this coffee shop, we pride ourselves on authenticity. We want our patrons to leave with something more than a double shot cortado in their hands; we want them walking out our windowless doors having made a real-human-connection in a place with real chairs and tables and walls that won’t fall over if you push on them.

The tattoos on our baristas do not rub off with a wet rag and those are actually real live septum piercings. If you don’t believe us, give one a tug. Bad idea. See? Now you’ve just committed real-human-assault, because again, our baristas are humans, not actors. I cannot stress that enough.

Here are some things you can do in our ordinary coffee shop. Study. Just not your lines please. Drink coffee. Keep a close eye on the baristas to ensure yourself none of them are quick-changing into different wigs and glasses. You won’t catch them. They’re too fast! Just kidding. This is an ordinary coffee shop.

Ordinary coffee shops press charges when you assault their employees. So don’t go thinking we’re not a real coffee shop just because we’re not pressing charges. The only reason we’re not pressing charges today, is because it seems you didn’t believe us when we told you our baristas are people and not actors.

Now that you’re convinced, you can tell everyone you know not to come in here and test the waters like that. You can tell everyone what happens when you commit an act of violence against a real live barista.

Still don’t believe us? You think the blood spurting from our barista’s nose is “too ketchupy” to be real? Well, just to prove to you how ordinary of a coffee shop this is, we’re going to have to change our mind and call the cops. In fact, we’ve already called them. And believe this: The cops say you’re going away for a long time. Here they come now, putting you under arrest. You’re kicking and screaming, begging for this not to be a real coffee shop. Well it is, and as a felon, this may be the last time you stand in a coffee shop for a long time.

Now you see we really weren’t lying when we told you this was an ordinary coffee shop. But you never stopped to ask if those were ordinary policemen. With real mustaches and batons? Go ahead and check for yourself. You won’t, will you?

You didn’t know the windows in the back seat of a police car were blacked out? Well, you can believe us when we tell you it’s always been this way and not so you don’t see the three actors on either side of the vehicle pushing it back and forth to simulate movement, because you’re in a real police car. And that jail they’re taking you to? Also real! With real bars that aren’t made out of carefully spray painted styrofoam! You really don’t want to check?

Your cell mate’s scars are real too, not liquid latex, and those words he’s muttering to himself over and over? Definitely a symptom of psychosis and not a clue he’s contractually obligated to give you. That’d be crazy! You know what’d be even crazier? If you didn’t ask him about it.

It’s just a coincidence that the prosecutor at your trial looks like that girl you matched with on Hinge last year who said she was an actress. Also coincidence that key pendant on her necklace looks like a perfect fit to your handcuffs. Can you believe she took it off and left it on the stand right before calling you up. Are you sure you don’t want to check?

Wow! This city hasn’t seen the death penalty in years, yet here you are, being issued it for assaulting a very real barista! We honestly didn’t take you for someone who’d just accept this, seeing how you were so convinced just hours ago we had actors running our coffee shop. Yet, here you sit, completely dissociated. You didn’t even try to read the fine print we had to put at the bottom of your cappuccino receipt that denies our responsibility in any trauma accrued from participating in this very real, not immersive experience.

Wow! Life happens fast doesn’t it? Faster than it should sometimes. Here you sit now in this electric chair that has very real electricity inside it and not confetti that’s going to blow out the sides with a little horn that toots and a sign that says, “Got ya!” Because that’s definitely not going to happen when our executioner right here, who looks suspiciously like one of the coffee shop patrons from your visit earlier who was talking loud enough into his phone for you to clock him, pulls this lever.

Still not raising any flags for you? No?

Look, we can’t tell if you’re just willing to accept death or if you’re accepting it because you’ve known all along this wasn’t a real coffee shop and so you’re acting this way to spite us. Either way, we’re impressed. Any last words? You just want us to pull the lever already? You say life has felt like an immersive theater experience since 2016 and you no longer care what’s real and what’s not, because this is the most alive you’ve felt since Trump’s first election?

Well geez, way to bring the vibe down.

I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you this isn’t an ordinary coffee shop.