My Frenemie Coffee

Coffee had no place in my home growing up.

My father drank Gatorade ("eeww, it tastes like sugarless kool-aid!")

My mother drank diet coke ("eeww, it tastes like...coke?")

Seriously, what does coke taste like? How do you compare the flavor to anything else? I keep running into the defining-the-word-without-using-the-word problem here. It's...cokey.

Anyway, the only experience I had with coffee was when my grandmother and uncle would come to visit. One time, my uncle allowed me to take a sip of his coffee out of curiosity. I spat the black poison water up. Their breath permanently smelled like their black, black coffee. A strong association. I can still smell it if I close my eyes. 

Then came along my long-awaited magical college transformation in none other than the city of coffee: Seattle.

Coffee became not only a caffeine picker-upper, but also a prayer, a ceremony. Like yoga, but for lazy and grouchy people. 

While living in my glamorous dorm room, my coffee maker had a prized desk area set aside for it. The first thing I did every morning after cursing at my alarm was to prepare a pot. I listened to the seductive bubbling as I prepared for my day.

The Chosen One.

The following summer I studied abroad in Paris. Inside of our housing building was a crappy little coffee vending machine. For 1,50 euro you could purchase a tiny plastic cup of "coffee" which was barely potable.

I preferred to spend the additional euro or two that it cost to get a café au lait at local Parisian cafés. I'd like to think that the French were charmed instead of indignant with my tourist compulsion to take a photo of every cup that I got.

Notre Dame

Brussels 

Versailles

Lyon

To contribute to my coffee obsession in school was my new job as a caterer. Since our primary product is offee-kay, we have to brew quite a bit--sometimes, 10, 20 gallons at a time. Since there is always extra coffee, I can help myself to a cup whenever I want.

I have literally gallons of coffee at my disposal at my place of work in Seattle.


Then comes this summer in Washington, D.C.

An internal debate is currently brewing regarding my coffee addiction. (See what I did there? Eh? Eh? "brewing"??)

Like most D.C. summers, the weather is not only hot, but humid. Two-bra weather, you might say. But I also have a 9-5 job with an early commute. Caffeine vs. heat.

I could drink iced coffee, but let's be honest, that is way too much effort.

Rather, my coffee regiment continues like always despite the sweat that it produces down my back.

Coffee at home.

Coffee on the metro.

Coffee at work.