Coffee Round Two: Brewed Awakenings

Back in September I wrote about my experiment where I spent a week drinking coffee against my will. Why I did this, I’m not entirely sure.  Before I conducted the experiment, I always imagined that if I was convicted of crimes against humanity, then a lifetime of drinking coffee is probably the punishment they would proscribe for me. I did that experiment to broaden my horizons (I guess) and see how other parts of humanity live. They live in pain, lots and lots of pain. 

I must be a masochist because yesterday I had what alcoholics call a breakdown and plunged myself back into the dark world of coffee drinkers. I thankfully survived; here is my tale.

WARNING: If you are not a member of the coffee underworld, what you are about to read may be disturbing.

Scarier than The Ring

I decided Tuesday would be the day I returned to the world of coffee. I had everything planned out: I would arrive at the racquet center around 10am, go to the coffee shop (Brewed Awakenings) at 10:30, and be back by 11:15 for workouts. Unfortunately it was raining when I woke up which I took as a sign from God that he did not find Tuesday acceptable for me to drink coffee. I quickly modified my plans to not include any products or paraphernalia associated with coffee in my schedule.

WWJD? Not get coffee

On Wednesday the weather was nicer and I was out of excuses, so I prepared for my trip to the coffee shop or as I like to refer to it, The Descent. I left the racquet center at 11:30am bound for Brewed Awakenings. When I walked in the door I took full stock of my surroundings. There were 3 laptops and 1 fedora present by thankfully no skinny jeans – dodged a bullet there, 3 for 3 is grounds for retreat. Of the 3 laptops present only two were Macs. I almost felt inclined to inform the poor soul using a PC he was shaming his people. I mean, I play tennis but I wouldn’t be caught dead using a Volkl racket. Have a little pride in yourself. If you want to do the coffee shop thing, get a Mac and conform to the non-conformists.

I obviously didn’t speak to the PC user, or anyone else for that matter, for one very simple reason:  I’m uncomfortable with new situations and don’t want to draw attention to myself. You can call it what you want, shyness, social awkwardness, low confidence, hatred of humanity. Any way, I’m probably going to engage in as little conversation as possible in an attempt to hide the fact that I have no idea what is going on. I don’t know what happens to you when the baristas find out that you have no idea as to what constitutes an Americano, but I don’t want to find out.

These types of situations remind me of a few articles written by columnist Daniel O’Brien about socially awkward people. O’Brien lists many situations people find terrifying or are uncomfortable with like getting a massage (Yep), standing next to someone at the urinal (Oh Yes), getting a haircut (please hurry and don’t speak to me), and spending any amount of time with someone else’s baby (God please no). The last time someone asked me to hold their baby, I ran out of the kitchen screaming “No! What if I break it!?” 

One entry in O’Brien’s article, 5 Situations That are Secretly Terrifying for Awkward People, covers going to concerts and gives a glimpse of how I feel (I was at a coffee shop and not a concert but the same ideas apply). We don’t do concerts or anything new – like coffee shops – because as O’Brien explains, “Awkward people like music. They’re just, you know… bad at it.” We enjoy the same things everyone else does and would love to go see our favorite band but are afraid to go because, “you don’t know how to dance and you’re afraid of being in a big group of strangers because the family crest of the Awkward Clan is a scrawny lion that doesn’t know what to do with his hands.”

You said it brother

Longtime readers of my posts (yes, you three) will probably remember that I have been to a variety of coffee shops before in a variety of different states. So what’s the problem here Brad? I will tell you the problem. In all those instances I wasn’t alone. I had an inside man, or woman, with me to lead me through those minefields. And I never ordered coffee at any of those places. I usually stood there, pretending not to care, while praying to every god imaginable that the baristas wouldn’t make eye contact, or heaven forbid try to talk to me. The only time my silence came close to breaking was at a coffee shop in Utah where I was almost forced, out of pure principal, to inform a teenage customer that Mötley Crüe was, in fact, not one of the Top 10 greatest bands of all time.

Looks like greatness

It was with great trepidation that I waited in line to order. As I studied the menu I came to the realization that I have no idea what anything means. Without any of my coffee drinking friends alongside me, I was on my own to decipher the differences between latte, espresso, cappuccino, mocha, macchiato, and any other coffee words I have left out. On top of that you could order from the Tradionale, Brewed, Classico, Decadent, or Blended and Iced section of the menu. Additionally there was also Chai tea. What happened to Lipton? While standing in line my conversations with myself went something like this.

What the hell does all that mean? And why does everything end in a vowel?

Don’t stare at the menu like it’s the messiah Brad. In fact just stand here and try to be as normal and not-awkward as possible. And for God’s sake, just put your hand in your pockets before you start drawing attention to yourself.

Oh no. That bearded guy just looked at me. Make it stop.

I almost called the whole operation off in favor of a simple hot chocolate, but felt I had come too far to turn back now. I finally settled on a white chocolate mocha off the Decadent section. The reason for this selection was simple: I felt it would lead to the least number of questions from the cashier who had long curly red hair and whom I took to calling red-headed Jesus (sans beard). My cover would be blown if he asked a question in their language and I couldn’t answer.

Me: "Can I get a small white chocolate mocha?" No questions please, no questions please

Red headed Jesus: "Okay, that’ll be $4.25."

Me: "Okay." Oh God. Cash or credit? Cash or credit? Go with cash, it has more anonymity.

Red headed Jesus: "Do you want whip cream with that?"

Abort! Abort! MI6, Mission Failed! Mission Failed!

Me: "Sure?"

Red headed Jesus: "Can I get your name?"

Asking for my name meant I was most likely going to have to wait while they made my drink. The other scenario going through my head involved the workers in the back scheming ways to abduct me and sell my kidneys. I quickly gave the cashier my name and turned to survey a place to hide while the baristas worked their dark magic. My usual places to sit, in the corners and along the wall, were all occupied so I would have to wait in the middle of the coffee shop with nowhere to sit.

Well Brad, it looks like you had a choice to make and you made the wrong one. Whatever you do, leave your hands in your pockets. Goodbye kidneys, we’ve had a good run.

Generally in these situations I pull out my phone and pretend other humans don’t exist. I re-read old texts, you know, just in case in I missed anything in those 160 characters last time. Let’s see, apparently the pizza I had with Noah a few days ago was still terrible and Curtis was still “disappointed” in my forehand prowess over the weekend.

Eventually my named was called and I picked up my white chocolate mocha, still unaware of what a mocha is. My initial thoughts upon tasting my drink were positive. Of course, there was still that distinct coffee taste permeating my taste buds at the end which was unfortunate, but the overall experience with the drink was good. I noticed the drink had espresso in it which confused me even more. How can mocha have espresso in it? Is it like a square and a rectangle? Mocha’s can also be espressos but espressos aren’t necessarily mochas?

In a state of confusion I left Brewed Awakenings and headed back for the racquet center. After drinking my… whatever it was, I noticed a little more jolt in my step which was quite different compared to my previous coffee experiences.

I know the effects caffeine can have on your body (it’s a stimulant) but am not necessarily respectful of it. This is because I have seen friends down an entire cup of coffee and then promptly pass out while leaving my non-coffee, drinking self to swerve all over interstate 45 in a fit of sleep delirium while we made our way back to Dallas. In this situation I did the only acceptable thing and took pictures for posterity’s sake.

Wait, you said you were driving on the interstate. How did you take that picture? Good question

Will I go back for more coffee? Probably at some point, but I will wait until I once again have someone with the power and linguistic ability to guide me through the forest of laptops, skinny jeans, and oddly spelled words.