An Ode To The Corner Store, My “Third Place”

Whenever I’m feeling tired, bored, or otherwise aimless, my feet automatically take me to my neighborhood bodega. There’s something comforting about the jingle of the front door, the bright overhead lights, the rows of cold drinks and teetering boxes of snacks, and the warm greeting from my BFF, the cashier.

It’s said that everyone needs a “third place,” aka a go-to destination that isn’t your work or home — a locale where you go to hang out and forget about life for a while, says Dr. Carla Marie Manly, a clinical psychologist and author of Joy from Fear. For many, it’s a local bar, a book club, or a coffee shop (think Central Perk in Friends). For me, it’s the corner store.

Not only do I stop by my bodega when I’m in a good mood — I just love to get a Diet Coke or a bouquet of eucalyptus as a little treat — but I also drag myself inside when I’m not doing so hot. Like a true friend, or maybe someone closer to a bartender, the cashier has seen me at my worst; she’s there when I’m dressed up at night on my way to an event, as well as the next morning when I schlep in tired, disheveled, and in desperate need of an everything bagel.

Fellow regulars pet my dog and gab about the weather. If I don’t feel like talking, there’s always the comforting constant of the sugar-covered coffee station in the back corner, where I slip to stir up a brew. I never stay long, but a quick five-minute visit is always enough to hit the spot.

When I first moved to my city in 2019, I was too shy to be a regular at a bar. And when things started closing unpredictably the following year, my go-to theaters, studios, and other artsy haunts weren’t always available. The bodega, however, was predictably open — quite literally a glowing beacon at the end of my block.

Eventually, it dawned on me that I go to my corner store every single day, whether I really need anything or not. It feels good to walk there as a destination whenever I need to get out. I start the day with their coffee and a quick chat, I freshen up mid-afternoon by stopping in for a snack, and I sometimes take my dog there at night just so everyone can say hi to him.

Truthfully, there are days when I don’t go anywhere else but that bodega, which makes the brief exchange as I pay for my croissant even more crucial. There’s also something so intimate about the fact that the owners have seen me in my pajama bottoms. And I found out I’m not the only one who feels this way about their bodega.

There’s something comforting about the jingle of the front door, the bright overhead lights, the rows of cold drinks and teetering boxes of snacks, and the warm greeting from my BFF, the cashier.

“My corner store is a little dark, windowless den where I can go for a while and get a snack, probably a Hi-Chew,” Kate, 35, tells me. “It also has a cat, so there’s that.”

There’s also my coworker, Hannah, 30, who has developed a relationship with her bodega owner. “He's seen me in all states: sick, sad, drunk, hungover, in my worst sweatpants,” she says.

One night, after baking a cake, she even brought over a few extra slices. “I remember thinking I was potentially setting myself up for awkwardness, like I could be showing that I enjoy our interactions more than he does, but he seemed to appreciate it,” she says.

The bodega worker has since tried to set her up on dates with other regulars, and now they’re even on a first-name basis. “I'll admit that when he greeted me by name for the first time, it felt like I'd reached a special milestone,” Hannah says. “I instantly felt like I had more of a community in the neighborhood.”

While many people look for the perfect bar or the coziest book club, I love that I’m not the only one who’s found that community at the deli counter of their local corner store.