Crack In Your Coffee Cup
Coffee shops really aren’t that dissimilar from crack houses or opium dens; essentially, they’re all havens for individuals who enjoy getting loaded while socializing with fellow drug lovers in a suitable and welcoming environment. That caffeine is a legal high served in well-polished establishments by snooty baristas makes little difference; the customers may as well be jaundiced junkies using rusty needles to shoot up filthy heroin in a rat-infested drainage ditch. Watching a line full of silent, rigid, bleary-eyed addicts waiting impatiently for a steaming cup of their morning fix, only to witness them transform into wide-eyed, cheery chatterboxes a few minutes later, is a lot like observing a grouchy, antisocial hobo chug a bottle of cheap wine before enthusiastically inviting a few famished tramps to share his pot of beans. However, I’ve never wanted to bitch-slap a drunken hobo enjoying beans, whereas I can scarcely refrain from bitch-slapping a plaid clad hipster slurping a caramel macchiato. Publicly gulping stimulant-spiked tap water that costs as much as a plate of tacos isn’t cool, chic, or interesting, particularly if it leads you to pretend to be doing something important on your brand-new gaming laptop while you listen to experimental indie rock on oversized headphones as you covertly sneak glances at others who are behaving similarly. Loudly discussing how selecting the right brand of organic soy milk is instrumental to creating a perfect non-dairy Grasshopper Frappuccino isn’t the sign of a cultured and sophisticated mind. And pretending that ordering a Speedball with extra espresso is any different from taking a hefty hit from uncle Leroy’s crack pipe is a white collar delusion that keeps Starbucks in business. At least crack doesn’t stain your teeth.