11:35
I love coffee .. The false sense of energy in the morning coupled with the caffeine addiction makes the start of every day a great one. After a drowsy wakeup bashing my relentless alarm into the wall… I religiously show my affection to the gods of caffeine by starting off my day with a prayer of two canderel tablets, hot milk and Arabica. However, my devotion for noir in the mornings is only faltered by one thing… the *baristas* at Starbucks.
While other coffee shops usually abide by the simple rule of welcoming you in filipino-english as Sir/Madam and then taking your order… The atheists at Starbucks (conspiring to complicate life) always attempt to shift you another ungodly creation of crap.
Me: Hi, I would like an espresso.
Atheist: Would you like to try our Caramel Cinnamon Tea with whip cream and pine nuts?
Me: Nope… just an espresso.
Atheist: We have a special offer, Caramel Cinnamon Tea with a half eaten almond donut.
Me: Nope… just an espresso.
Atheist: It’s very tasty… We can make you a Caramel Cinnamon Tea with three pumps of vanilla ice shaken.
Me: Nope… just an espresso.
Atheist: Inside the blender we put the half eaten almond donut and mix it with the caramel, cinnamon, vanilla and whip cream.
Me: Espresso?
A simple order of an espresso in the morning is extended into a ridiculously long banter about the million different variations of beans and water that they offer. They ask you if you want to add several layers of caramel, chocolate, vanilla, coconuts and almonds. After the exhaustive repetitions of the word no, no, no… They attempt to sell you yet another drink which has absolutely no correlation to your intended order. You want an espresso? Then how about you try our frozen cinnamon mango shake with a crushed snickers bar. By the time your order is complete, your constant begging for an espresso has evolved into a seven shot caramel affogato accompanied by a chicken quiche.
While you are left clenching your numbered receipt for an unwanted order… you are surrounded by two types of people; the ditsy mithajbas wrapped in their skin tight leopard body suits looking at you as if you stole the last of the empty yogurt cups and the prepubescent teenagers, under the impression that the corner couch resides in their personal living room as they send each other IM messages. After your order number is screamed out, and you retrieve a burnt latte… It dawns upon you that sitting inside might not be the best choice… As you move outdoors to sit beside the chain-smoking students of Kuwait’s academia staring aimlessly into a translated book about The Secret .. your realize this wasn’t the experience you were looking for.
The experience of a hip coffeehouse playing Norah Jones with the upcoming writers crafting their creations is dead and gone (if it ever existed). The allure of a chic central perk faded long ago when they started using darts to target the last three buildings to place an emblazoned green twin-tailed siren. To which you are left pondering? What brings me back to this god forsaken place? it isn’t the coffee or the atmosphere … As you make your way to your car realizing that the lack of an answer won’t stop you from coming back the next day and attempting to order an espresso.
