Old Gap
So, Traveling
I haven’t flown in about a year. It’s surprising how much has changed at the various airports and airlines. Most critically, I let my TSA Pre-check expire. Now I must wait in lines, strip down to my boxers, flash my privates, and share everything that I have to eat with anyone in a five foot circle before going through security.
One thing that hasn’t changed are my people. I don’t know them. I hope they’re my tribe. You’ve probably seen them, one arm bent at the elbow, a cuppa coffee extended in front of them like a bumper, marching their bags in search of. Soon as localized, I found a Peet’s — YES! PEET’S — and purchased a coffee.
High airport prices haven’t changed. $3.19 for a small coffee. Yikes. If it wasn’t a bonafide medical emergency, I may have passed. But caffeine was calling and the sky was falling…
It was needed, though. Looking forward to another thirteen hours across land and through air before reaching the final place.
Cheers
A Little Off
Batting his ears, he wriggled his eyes, crossed his nostrils, and lowered his chest to think, popping another leaf into his belly-button as he did. Something was different today, but he couldn’t put a toe on it.
Thoughts
We saw the light
and thought it was fire,
held in glass
strung by a wire.
We smelled the smoke
and thought it was grass,
we felt lit
and fell on our ass.
We heard a song
and thought it was love,
we tasted tears
and thought it was salt.
We saw the light
but it was too far away.
We said, “Let’s start tomorrow.”
But tomorrow never came.
Together
I lost you,
you found me,
kicking in the door
that I tried to seal.
Dancing on dreams,
living on smoke,
pennies away
from always being broke.
The crystal was fine,
but we drew lines,
toking on what was right,
and what should be denied.
Never agreeing
in sounds too soft to hear,
straining for space
when we tried to get near.
Blinded by lights
that could’ve been love or hate,
we made our way past others,
knowing too much too little
too late.
Coffee Confessions
I admit that I like dark, strong coffee. I prefer not to put anything in it. Sometimes, though, I will change things up and have a twelve ounce mocha with four shots of espresso.
They asked me about my coffee preferences today at my regular coffee haunt. The two brews available both work for me so it was sixes. What I’m looking for a good cup of coffee is what seems like a clear and unambiguous flavor. I don’t want woody or winey blends, or coffees that shrink away from being strong.
It prompted thoughts of the coffees that I don’t like. I know you’re curious and anxious about it, so here’s the list.
- McDonald’s coffee
- Dunkin Donuts
- Starbucks
- Any other fast-food place where I’ve ever sampled coffee, like Burger King, Wendy’s etc.
People are often shocked when I mention Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks. Eyes bugging out, their voice rises. “You don’t like Dunkin Donuts coffee? I love it.” They gape at me as if I’ve just spoken an alien language. I imagine them going home to loved ones in a state of shock. The family gathers around to comfort them. “What is it, honey? Are you okay?”
They slowly respond from their depths of horror, “You’ll never believe what I heard today.”
“Tell us, tell us.”
“Michael doesn’t like Dunkin Donuts coffee.”
Gasps all around.
It’s always amusing when one person is appalled that another doesn’t the flavor that they love themselves. “You don’t like Budweiser? I think that’s the best beer in the world.” I, course, respond without snobbery, asking, “Have you had any other beer? Do you have any taste buds.” See? I’m just like them.
I feel like I’m required to mention Seattle’s Best, Pete’s, and Tim Horton here. I’ve never had Tim Horton, so I can’t comment on it. I’ve had Seattle’s Best, and can take it or leave it. I do love Pete’s Coffee; it’s my go-to when there’s a need to find some and it’s there.
My coffee days began in the military over a quarter of a century ago, when American coffee options were much smaller. I was a shift worker. Night shifts sometimes required some stimulation, especially those of the twelve hour variety, in at six in the evening, out at six the next morning. In those bunker-like places without windows, lit by fluorescent and tasks lights, warmed by multiple telephones, radios, and computer terminals, I began drinking coffee.
I began with the leftover day shift coffee, you know, whatever was still in the pot. I’d nuke that sludge and drink it down. As my taste buds developed, I realized how dissatisfying that was. Actually, it was nasty. Instant, like Nescafe and Sanka, was then embraced and discarded. They frankly seemed worse than the warmed up sludge.
I started brewing my own pots. That’s when my preferences awakened. I figured out what strength I preferred when I was required to measure out the scoops for my pot. In the early days, it was, “More is better.” Command posts and operations centers typically had Folgers or Maxwell House. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I found them weak and unappealing, forcing me to bring in my own grinds. Then I started buying beans and grinding them at home…
Yes, I was hooked.
It’s amazing how many coffee options now exist. It seems like just like everything else in the world, we go for overkill, trying to fill every niche and nuance of flavor and delight.
I guess I can live with it, as long as I get mine.
Thursday’s Bumper Sticker
It gives me wine, but whatever.
Floof Age
Floof Age (floofinition) – The first known period of animal culture, characterized by the animals domination over the Earth.
In use: “When animals’ first floofcraft arrived on Earth after their escape, they settled in neolithic humans settlements and passed on their knowledge of agriculture and architecture to help humanity survive and flourish, a neolithic era often known among animals as the Floof Age.”
Michael Seidel, writer 