A Sharp Life Rewind: A trip to the coffee shop brings back memories

This column originally appeared in the Odessa American newspaper July 23, 2017. It appears here by permission of the newspaper. The text of this column appears as it originally did 3 years ago, but I have taken the liberty of adding some clarifications.

A few days ago I went to a new coffee shop with some friends.  This was not the type of place where you step up to the counter and say, “Coffee. Black.” This was the type of place that to be truly confident in your order you needed to know French and have a master’s degree in chemistry. The menu was full of words I (who took Greek and Hebrew) did not understand and something called a nitro. I went along on the excursion primarily for the opportunity to spend time with friends as I am by no means a coffee drinker. I go to coffee shops hoping to accomplish two goals. First, find something that isn’t coffee to drink. Second, don’t look like a complete idiot in the process. I am rarely successful at both of these endeavors.

My life as a coffee teetotaler would no doubt be a disappointment to my maternal grandfather. My grandfather was creature of habits, his frequent visits to “the coffee shop,” which was a local café, among the most notable. On a few occasions I accompanied him to the coffee shop. It was an experience that I imagine would be a lot like accompanying Norm Peterson into the bar at Cheers. No, people did not shout his name when we entered, but it was clear that I had entered somewhere where I was an outsider, and he was the ultimate insider. We entered the front door, walked right past the “wait to be seated” sign, and headed for a specific empty table. This table was his table. Everyone knew that he would sit there. He acknowledged a few of the other regulars on the way, and to my amazement a waitress with a cup of coffee met us at the table. The waitress asked what I wanted, and when I ordered a Dr. Pepper I got a disapproving look from her and my grandfather, but I am also a creature of habits and if there is one thing that I won’t be pressured into it is drinking coffee.

I thought about my grandfather last week when I was at the fancy new coffee shop trying to figure out what to order. He would have been as lost as I was, albeit for very different reasons. I’m certain in all his days on this planet he never uttered the word venti, and when he used the term nitro it was surely car related. When it was my turn to order I asked the person taking orders what exactly the Frozen Hot Chocolate was. She looked at me and said, “It’s hot chocolate, but it’s frozen.”

This, this is why I don’t go to coffee shops. Well, that and the coffee.