“It is inhumane, in my opinion, to force people who have a genuine medical need for coffee to wait in line behind people who apparently view it as some kind of recreational activity.” Dave Barry
I started drinking coffee at sixteen when I began dating. I ordered a cappuccino in an Italian restaurant after dinner. It kept me up all night but I didn’t care. I was doing something very grown up – like alcohol and weed. I was in the experimentation phase.
It evolved into instant coffee in the morning. Instant coffee was everywhere. Coffee was not a culture yet. It was just one of two caffeinated hot drinks with free refills.
When I was diet conscious in college for no reason, I drank black coffee with fake sugar. I could not buy artificial sweetener because I was not allowed to eat food with chemicals. I grabbed handfuls when they brought it to the table and hid it in my house.You could always find some Sweet n Low in my pockets.
After I got married and moved to LA, I became a serious coffee drinker. My plan was to arise at 4 a.m. and take some whole beans out of an airtight but never refrigerated container and roast each bean individually over a wood-burning fire. This never happened. Every morning I ground those beans by hand not with a mortar and pestle but an automatic coffee grinder. I used a French press, waited four minutes and poured the coffee. I was going to be the kind of wife that made perfect coffee.
Starbucks and Coffee Bean stores were showing up everywhere. I was a regular coffee user by then. Barista became an American word. They are sometimes nice and sometimes annoying. There is nothing I hate more than when they correct my order in their own special lingo. They do it in a condescending way as if they are enlightening me that the correct term is Venti. I don’t want whipped cream on a soy latte. I’m ordering soy because I don’t want dairy. I don’t like anyone perky talking to me before i have coffee. I don’t come to Starbucks for questions. I come for coffee.
After years of Starbucks, I found out that there is extra caffeine in their coffee. It doesn’t matter because it is three pm. I have to pick up my children from school and drive them to their activities. I am sooo tired. The morning caffeine has worn off. Is there a faster way to consume it? Maybe bathing in it? My children learn that I have a coffee dependence. I know the location of every Starbucks and Coffee Bean on the way to all their after school activities. “I just need to stop and get coffee”, becomes a familiar phrase that they hear all their lives.
Years later the best part about going to bed is imagining the coffee I am going to drink in the morning. At midnight, I think – only seven more hours to go. It’s more important to my body than oxygen or my left kidney. It is definitely a full-blown addiction.
The unthinkable happens. For health reasons, I had to give up my afternoon, decades long, extra-large sized cup of coffee. I forge a special bond with blinding headaches, nausea and not getting anything done. I want to murder everyone I see holding a paper coffee cup. The dog was worried about me.
Eventually the symptoms disappear. The matcha fills a bit of the void. I’m more hydrated because I drink more water. I sleep more and my stomach doesn’t hurt. I can probably do coffee soon but the withdrawal was so severe that I never want to experience it again. Sometimes I go in a great coffee shop just to smell it brewing. I can crack at any time. But also I can change. Who knew?