Caffe, Tea or Me

Acclimatizing to a new workplace and environment is taking some time - almost as slow as my pending broadband application. Certainly gonna be a few more days or so before I'll get my regular internet fix, and that's leaving the net whore / addict in me with the nervous jitters and tics.

Fortunately that particular addiction is easily fed as all three connecting roads that lead out of my new home lead invariably to a Starbucks store ( cynical persons could say that all roads actually lead to the ubiquitous coffee chain ) which has left me spoilt for choice. Every which way I turn, I see the bewitching mermaid waving to me with her wifi bubble and a cup of caffe mocha. Unfortunately my caffeine embargo has forced me to limit my intake to a single cup of caffe mocha per day. Certainly no need to add to my occasional sleepless in the city woes by getting all revved up at night.

Since I only manage to make my way to a cup of java in the late evenings after work ( thwarted by miserable surgeons and slowpoke commuters, despite my relentless maniacal driving ), that leaves me bereft and unbearably grumpy in the mornings. Imagine if you will, my early hours in the morning seemingly spent staring at my coffee mug - sadly filled to the brim with weak, impotent tea, mealy milk or even plain jane aqua. Sad to say, certainly no match for their more robust, virile brother, coffee.

That should explain to the astonished black-garbed baristas manning the counter why I frequently gulp down the caffeine like a cachexic starved sailor stranded on a desert island. So please excuse the foam splashing up my cheeks and the fact that a river of black coffee has dripped halfway down my soaked shirt. That however doesn't fully explain the odd, irrespresible impulse just half an hour ago to slurp down the tall, sexy drink of water ( aka Foamy Fazley, the flirty dark-eyed barista who served me coffee while working up plenty of steam ) in one big gulp - before throwing him down amongst the comfortable looking sacks of coffee beans for an overnighter. Nothing like a good set of pecs to make me overlook that overly cheery greeting.


Not even milk will do!

Hmmm... see what a lack of caffeine does to me?

Literally bewitched by that irresistible sensory blend of the light jazz, the sizzling baristas and the freshly brewed, coffee afficianados can achieve near religious levels of devotion to a particular brand. That particular zealousness can't be held true for everyone of course since a crazed addiction to caffeine simply cannot be attributed to all.

More than a few of the visitors don't even have coffee mugs - which simply defies explanation. With all the seemingly affordable broadband packages around, the sheer number of pathetic nomads left without a connection still amazes me. Each time I lug my trusty laptop into a wifi spot, I'm usually left facing down dozens of similarly destitute creatures who lurk noiselessly in the dark in search of that internet shangri-la, jealously guarding their rickety table ( one table to rule them all? ) due to some misplaced sense of entitlement. Surely not all of them have been left waiting by the wayside by their broadband providers? What could possibly explain them sitting at all hours in the coffeehouse without budging an inch from their precious little corners of cyberspace? Don't they actually have a home somewhere?

But till my prince charming comes knocking on my door with broadband attached, I'll be here with my caffe mocha.