Java Me

I'll admit that i used to be a caffeine addict.

There was a time when I downed enough java to help support a struggling coffee-bean growing industry in a small third world island nation. These days - after my semi-successful coffee embargo - I limit myself to a cup or two a day. Though I do fall off the wagon every now and then - especially when I'm staring sleepy and bleary-eyed at the blurring monitor at 4 in the morning. Nothing like a quick pick-me-up like a deliciously brewed cup of hot coffee.

Or two. Or three.

Even if I'm forced to subsist on the overly sugary, sadly inferior 3-in-1 sachets that are stuffed in our pantry cabinets at work. Certainly no coffee snob with filters and French presses stuffed in my backpack but the instant sachets are an insult to my delicate sensibilities. I'll admit to needing at least a hint of the sultry Amazon in my beans - rather than the faint whiff of lab chemicals in the sachets.

But beggars can't be choosers.


That ain't what I ordered.
What do I have to do to get my coffee here?
Unfortunately even the shockingly ubiquitous Starbucks hasn't seen fit to open its doors over in the general hospital ( at least a makeshift stand dammit! ). Not sure why though since it's common knowledge that medical staff - doctors, nurses and all - are all obsessed caffeine addicts who consume the black stuff by the gallons. Don't they know that their tables would be forever crammed with drained, insomniac physicians with laptops and PDAs in tow?

And in between patients, I could carry on a flirtation with the cute barista.

Barista : Would that be a venti for you?
Paul : Why? Think I can't swallow something that size?

Used to chug expresso shots back in medical school cramming over dull-duller-dullest textbooks but I think I'm already hyper enough without an overdose of caffeine. Anyway these days I need my java fix with at least a pinch of sugar. Hence my regular caffe mocha.

Some folks say that the type of coffee you drink tells a lot about a person. Or at least that's what my ISO has heard.

Paul : Then what am I?
My ISO : An anal-retentive control freak?
Paul : And you can tell that from my cup of grande caffe mocha with whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles on top?
My ISO : Nah, that's because I know you - not because I read coffee beans.
Paul : Well my psychic powers tell me that delicate girly lil cup of caffe latte is so not you.
My ISO : But it has a phallic cinnamon stick.

If I recall, Charming Calvin takes his poison in the form of a light, frothy frappucino.