I didn’t grow up liking coffee. In fact, I hated the smell whenever I walked into my grandparents’ house and sniffed the bitterness in the air. If anyone asked me now, I still don’t like coffee. But a series of events changed my mind, and soon I understood that coffee was less of a drink and more of a lifestyle. Nowadays, I have fully immersed myself in the Dunkin’ life, and if my stomach didn’t absolutely hate me (I’m lactose intolerant), I would drink a frozen coffee with mocha three times a day. Of course, I didn’t start there. My evolution began with a Starbucks’ Frappuccino on a summer day in Paris, France.
Before starting my twelfth grade year I took a trip with my High School on an Education First tour of Ireland, England, and France. Near the end of the trip, in France, all of us struggled to overcome the language barrier. We did what any American abroad would do. We went to Starbucks.
We knew that of all places, Starbucks, would have some English speaking employees and luckily, they did. So, in that desperate time; starving, tired, and nearly hallucinating from the heat I had my first Starbucks Mocha Cookie Crumble. Sharing this experience with me was my mom, who also never enjoyed coffee before this. In hindsight, it’s kind of sad that this is my favorite memory of the entire trip. Doubly sad, because I didn’t really enjoy Paris to begin with.
Fast forward to my first semester of college. I went to London. While there wasn’t a language barrier there, I experienced a palate barrier. For lunch, my friends and I would wander around the Arcadia University London Center and find whatever cheap convenience store we could. The problem with that was how much Londoner’s like to put sandwiches on baguettes. I have no problem with baguettes, but I can only take so much cheddar and ham on rock-hard bread without Panera Bread’s broccoli cheese soup. You may have already guessed, but I went back to my old American habits and visited Starbucks. They would have normal food, right?
And they did! After that, I often forgoed local cuisine in favor of Starbucks. I always got a Mocha Frappuccino and a ham and cheese croissant. Did I miss out on a lot of the local scene? Yes, but I had travelled across an ocean, completely out of my comfort zone, and I needed some comfort. Starbucks and coffee became that.
I came back to the States and Starbucks was still on my mind. However, the nearest one, located in a Target, didn’t have a drive through, was too far to walk, and I didn’t drive anyway. Dunkin’ was closer.
Again, I hesitated about coffee. I knew my usual order at Starbucks and I loathed to change a habit. I didn’t want to learn a new menu, and the most I knew about coffee was still the bitter scent of my grandparents’ kitchen. So Dunkin’ was out of the question. For now.
Eventually, I had my first Dunkin’ Frozen Coffee, but I don’t remember when. All I know is that my will often overcame the stomach pains and I fell into the coffee lifestyle. But also, Dunkin’ is less expensive than Starbucks. (My current employer, who owns, among other things, a coffee shop, hates it when I come to work with Dunkin’ in my hand.)
Two years out of undergraduate studies and a master’s degree in the works, I have days where coffee is my step out of reality. And, I think that, as a whole, my coffee habits became largely a placebo effect. If I had coffee I could stay up later. I could write that paper. Binge that whole season of Supernatural. As a result of chronic health problems, I frequently struggle with depression and fatigue. Add caffeine to the mix and BAM! Coffee helped that feeling subside. I call it a placebo though, because I highly doubt I ever drink enough of it to actually affect me. That is, after all of the milk, sugar, and mocha.
At the beginning of this, I said that I still don’t like coffee. I say that again now, because there is one thing I will never do and one thing that I will always do. I will never drink black coffee, especially hot black coffee, or hot coffee in general. Some people may say that makes me not a real coffee drinker, and I tend to agree with them. (Kind of like how iced tea isn’t the “real” way to drink tea, but I will live and die by that southern brew.) The thing I will always do? I will always drink iced coffee no matter the weather. I don’t care if it’s negative 20 degrees. I will have my icy drink. (I once drove to Dunkin’ in a snowstorm, so I think my loyalties are true.)
