I HAVE EXCITING NEWS for anybody who would like to pay a lot of money for coffee that has passed all the way through an animal's digestive tract.
And you just know there are plenty of people who would. Specialty coffees are popular these days, attracting millions of consumers, every single one of whom is standing in line ahead of me whenever I go to the coffee place at the airport to grab a quick cup on my way to catch a plane. These consumers are always ordering mutant beverages with names like "mocha almond honey-vinaigrette lattespressacino," beverages that must be made one at a time by a lengthy and complex process involving approximately one coffee bean, 3 quarts of dairy products and what appears to be a small nuclear reactor.
Meanwhile, back in the line, there is growing impatience among those of us who just want a plain old cup of coffee so that our brains will start working and we can remember what our full names are and why we are catching an airplane. We want to
strike the lattespressacino people with our carry-on baggage and scream, "GET OUT OF OUR WAY, YOU TREND GEEKS, AND LET US HAVE OUR COFFEE!" But of course we couldn't do anything that active until we've had our coffee.
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. I bet this kind of thing does not happen to heroin addicts. I bet that when serious heroin addicts go to purchase their heroin, they do not tolerate waiting in line while some dilettante in front of them orders a hazelnut smack-a-cino with cinnamon sprinkles.
The reason some of us need coffee is that it contains caffeine, which makes us alert. Of course it is important to remember that caffeine is a drug, and, like any drug, it is a lot of fun.
No! Wait! What I meant to say is: Like any drug, caffeine can have serious side effects if we ingest too much. This fact was first noticed in ancient Egypt when a group of workers, who were supposed to be making a birdbath, began drinking Egyptian coffee, which is very strong, and wound up constructing the pyramids.
I myself developed the coffee habit in my early 20s, when, as a cub reporter for the Daily Local News in West Chester, Pa., I had to stay awake while writing boring stories about municipal government. I got my coffee from a vending machine that also sold hot chocolate and chicken-noodle soup; all three liquids squirted out of a single tube, and they tasted pretty much the same. But I came to need that coffee, and today I can do nothing useful before I've had several cups. (I can't do anything useful afterward, either; that's why I'm a columnist.)
