It’s cold outside. Very cold outside. So cold even icicles are wearing sweatpants. But you’re cozy and warm inside your toasty burrito blanket of goodness. As you stir from your slumber your eyes gradually adjust enough for you to make out the shadows of the ice covered tree arms just outside your window. The thought crosses your mind, “How are birds singing songs of jubilation when my entire city is a frozen tundra wasteland?” After having no luck trying to figure out the logic of winged creatures, you look over at the clock on your nightstand and realize it’s getting closer and closer to coffee time with every second that passes. The thought of getting out of bed is dreadful, yet you feel an eagerness to start the day. (Weird I know, but stick with me my story gets better.)
You LEAP out of bed, being careful not to step on the furry ball of love that is your dog. Trotting down the hallway you notice the lack of an intoxicating aroma wafting your way from the kitchen. This strikes you as odd but you think nothing more of it as you turn the corner, your four legged best friend leading the way. Making your way to the alter of worship that is your coffee stash, a wave of anxiety hits you like nothing you’ve felt before in your 31 years on this floating rock we call Earth. In your haste to get home last night you forgot to pick up the several hundred pounds of hazelnut dry roast brew that it takes for you to make it through your week. The epitome of Shakespeare’s definition of a TRAGEDY.
You resist the urge to scream, instead letting out a soft whimper as streams of salty fluid begin to flow down your cheeks. Out loud to yourself comes the question, “Are my eyes broken?” And then you remember that normal people do this thing called crying. You fall to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, writhing in pure physical pain from the missing caffeine in your veins. EVERYTHING GOES BLACK.
28 minutes and 49 seconds later you come to. Dog slobber adorning the back of your neck. Getting to your feet will take every ounce of energy you can muster, but you know you’re already late for work by the buzz of your phone and the display that reads 3 missed calls and 2 missed text messages.
You shout silently to yourself, GET UP. For the love of all that’s holy, GET UP. Find Coffee. You’ve got work to do.
Staggering to your feet, you vaguely remember hoarding away several thousand packets of instant coffee from last years Caribbean resort vacation that your boss made you take. White sand. Blue water. Beautiful women….It was terrible.
Now Focus. Where is the caffeine? Can you smell it? Can you taste it in the air? Your drawn to the corner cabinet above the refrigerator that only 7ft tall basketball players are likely to use. Hmmm, maybe a step stool first….
Opening the cabinet door is not unlike opening a buried treasure chest. “Will I find Black (coffee) Gold or will I find a dusty tin of stale popcorn from Christmas 1995?”
A wave of pleasure (and pain) rushes over you when you see those glimmering packets of Black (coffee) Gold. Grabbing what is presumably the entire remaining stock of instant death, I mean coffee, in the Northern Hemisphere, you rejoice in song with Drake’s “Started From The Bottom” but only the chorus so as not to waste precious time. You begin to shake from the continuing caffeine withdrawal as you scramble to the coffee maker. Somehow you manage to pour most of the coffee in the coffee maker and not on the dog who is beginning to whine because you haven’t fed him yet due to your being incapacitated.
Finally….the sweet sounds and smells of percolation. YES! Crisis Averted.
As you wait for the masterpiece you helped create to reach perfection, you look across the room over at your wall calendar. Today is…..Ssssaturday? Perfect. I’ll have this cup of coffee and go back to bed.
What to do in case of an Emergency? Check your wall calendar first.
Let me know how I can serve you (coffee),
– Adam Walker
The King of The City