Drinking black coffee, black coffee, drinking black coffee, staring at the wall
Black coffee, black coffee, black coffee, staring at the wall
Black coffee, drinking black coffee, drinking black coffee, staring at the…
–Black Flag, “Black Coffee”
I started drinking coffee at the wild age of 16. That first cup was consumed under subtle peer pressure at the Denny’s Restaurant in King of Prussia late one summer night. Up until then, I favored hot tea, finding the bitter taste of coffee to be overwhelming. But there I was at Denny’s, surrounded by suburban teenaged misfits drinking coffee, and I couldn’t bring myself to order the tiny silver teapot of hot water, served with a Lipton’s tea bag and a slice of lemon. So, at the urging of my best friend AS, I drank the coffee and almost cried from the perceived acrid dirty taste.
In only a few months, I acquired enough of a taste for coffee that I decided to apply to work at the coffee specialty store in the King of Prussia mall, the Coffee Beanery, where one of the many perks was as much free coffee as you could consume without twitching. I discovered espresso, as well as a strange physical elation that came from drinking multiple chocolate-spiked shots of it. It really made the time go by.
And thus began my dependance on coffee. Every morning, every afternoon, and right before, during, or after any important social or mental event, there was coffee. When there was no sleep, there was coffee. When there was no food, there was coffee. On road trips, you better believe there was coffee. I never resented coffee for compelling me to drink it. My morning cup of coffee was like an award for getting out of bed. In recent years, I cut my consumption back to anywhere from 1 to 4 cups a day, but I never considered giving it up.
Until last week. I’m down to 1 6-ounce cup of coffee in the morning, and I plan to phase even that out in the coming week. This small dose of caffeine seems to be preventing the withdrawal headaches and fatigue, although my head was pounding last night in bed before I drifted off to a (deeper than usual?) sleep.
Oh, coffee. I’m not saying goodbye forever. But you will no longer be a daily ritualized addiction, more like an acquaitance who I’ll invite for breakfast once in a while. And I’ll welcome you with my best “DAMN good coffee, and HOT!”
