Sweet nectar of the gods

I don’t know how people get through the day without coffee. I adore it. I need it. It’s my addiction. There is nothing more appealing than getting up on a Saturday morning with nothing to do but sit with my daily cup of Joe, and I use the term cup loosely, and watch tv or check emails. Some people are stoners, or into the harder drugs, or they drink themselves into oblivion. Not me, I’ve always been a caffeiner.

In my younger days, it was Mountain Dew for breakfast followed by a constant flow of tea. Later I discovered coffee and espresso shots. Oh, the extra shot, how I adore thee! More recently there was a bout with hybrid sodas. That was intense.

A long time friend once told me that it’s easier for her to get out of bed when she knows the coffee is already there, brewed and ready to go. No filters to fuss with or grounds to spill in a slumbering stupor. Perpetually oversleeping, and always late, she spent a few months setting her pot up before bed, hoping the promising aroma of java would ease her into the day.

To her surprise, the experiment proved very successful. She enjoyed her morning primping ritual because, with said coffee in her system, she felt she could rip herself from her oversized pillow top on time. She was more put together, (closer to) on time, and of course more awake. Leaving for work wasn’t the flustered throwing together of things like B.C. (Before Coffee). Truly, this was a magical and inspired plan.

I’m much the same way. Different coffees, flavored creams, yum! I’ve grown to be somewhat of a connoisseur. Kona, Arabica, Jamaican Blue Mountain, Café Britt, I’ve sampled them all. So delicious. I’ve even learned about coffee. How and where the beans grow, what makes the different flavors and the difference in roasts.

Without my morning cup, the world has no color, the traffic seems tighter and I rarely remember getting dressed in the morning. Once at work, with my good friend caffeine, I notice things. Important things. Like I have black shoes on with my brown pants or I left my cell phone unplugged on my couch at home and the all important, “where are my keys?”

So the coffee gives pep, that’s for sure, but what happens when the pep isn’t enough. My cup-a-day habit grew. It grew like the hulk. There was a time when I was having several larger cups of coffee a day, but it was nothing compared to my Vault addiction that I intensified to. No one, and I mean no one should ever drink anything that glows like it’s radioactive with ultra neon colors.

My java proved no match for the hybrid soda and energy drink. Sure, it’s harmless enough, until you can’t get through a meeting without it. It’s amazing. Sleep is a thing of the past. Think of what I can accomplish while those other schmucks waste their time snoring. You snooze you loose!

Then…. came…the…. crash…Zzzzzz.

Those sleeps were the best ones ever. My bed could have collapsed under me, a hurricane could have hit only my bedroom, and a helicopter possibly landed on my roof. Nothing woke me. Alarm clocks were no match. It was like a drug-induced coma, or so I would imagine.

I loved my fusion drinks but I never got into the hard stuff. No Red Bull here. Not for crazy Petey. As a college kid, underage but still the life of the party, his drink of choice at social gatherings was Amp. We would know it was going to be a long night when he showed up with a four pack. He was not satisfied until he was twitching and tweaking, but oh man, once he hit that level, look out!

One time after several Amps he ran and climbed the wall of us house to sit on the roof. At another, he dressed in a full gorilla suit he found in one of the tenant’s closets. Amp makes you crazy. Why? Who knows, but it sure makes for some interesting party pictures and stories.

I guess everyone has his or her addiction and we all use caffeine in our own special way. Crazy Petey was great because while he was trembling from the delightful caffeine and sugar concoction, he was also completely sober. Many nights he was chauffeuring those who had too much to drink home safely. Many nights I’m sure he was up to see the sunrise.

Oh, and my friend…. yeah, she fell off the wagon. It seems that frantic dressing and speed driving is the way to go for her.