Introducing Boba…
Today, I drank coffee. This is significant because—at 24—I’d never had a sip of it in my life. Yes, I made it through four years of (arguably) rigorous undergrad curriculum, an Ivy League masters program and two years as a professional without ever touching the black stuff.
I feel… Odd. Like I broke my personal bushido. Three questions stem from this act.
1. Why had I not tried coffee?
My coffee virginity had flummoxed many people—friends, co-workers, strangers alike—I think I would get less perplexed looks if I was an actual virgin. Coffee was simply never a part of my life. I never saw my parents drink it, none of my pre-college friends drank it, so I wasn’t ever curious. By the time freshmen year rolled around, roommates attempted indoctrination, but I never saw the academic purpose: I rarely lacked energy, was motivated when motivation was needed, etc. It happened rather unintentionally, then. I just never tried it and thus, never needed to.
2. Why try it today?
I woke up exceptionally tired, didn’t have a 5-Hour-Energy or Red Bull lying around and figured, why not? Sadly, that’s it. I’m weirdly, slightly disappointed in myself. Why hold out this long to just fold? I should have a better excuse or at least, a better story. New York, you’ve ruined me.
3. Did I like it?
I guess? I ordered it black. I’m a big tea drinker and I favour a fair amount of beer with coffee-accents, so I suppose my pallet was prepared. It was okay. It sufficed. I’ll probably drink it some more. Meh.
Friends’ reactions have been entertaining. It’s funny/endearing how people love sharing their expertise. It seems everyone has an opinion on coffee, willing to share their learned way of ordering it. I’m occasionally disappointed when a new acquaintance already listens to a band I love. Wait, you already like Radiohead? Damn! There’s so much I could’ve been the first to show you! I think it’s rare for someone to be blind to something as universal as coffee; it draws commentary from everyone. It’s unique, sweet.
I wonder how many 24-year-old journalists out there haven’t consumed coffee. Was I the last of my kind, some sort of decaffeinated Martian?
