Everything bad in life—speeding, fake tans, leather jackets, NASCAR, Indiana—is closely correlated with coffee. My parents trained my brother and me well, using my delinquent uncle as a reason why we should avoid the dark, devilish drink. He was one big, bad, leather Nascar-jacket wearing speeder with a cigarette in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Fathering a child in high school, a laundry list of divorces and repeated marital infidelity, his moral regression was closely linked to his caffeine consumption, my parents said, and as soon as my brother or I took one sip we, too, would start a downward spiral.
So I refrained. All throughout college I smugly sat by, sipping my tea, thinking about how much whiter my teeth were, how I was glad I didn't drink something I could become addicted to, how my growth hadn't been stunted and how great antioxidants were.
Tea always seemed to be a winner. First, there were rumors it had some amount of caffeine—although after trying pull a Lipton-fueled all-nighter, I realized the only way it keeps you awake is by sending you to the bathroom every five minutes. Also, the ceremony and the pastries associated with tea just make it seem higher-class than a beverage perpetually partnered with artery-clogging doughnuts.
And finally, the British drink it—and if the British do something, you know it's cool.
""I just don't understand what is wrong with you guys,"" I contentedly said one morning, as I smugly sipped my oversized mug of Earl Grey.
""We don't get what is wrong with you,"" my roommate Leila said.
""Well, I just think that in the morning, it is better to choose healthy beverages with caffeine than to rely on the coffee-water and diet coke you drink,"" I retorted, biting into my cranberry crumpet. ""Did you know that the sweetener in that coke will give you cancer?""
She glared.
They hated me.
But this arrangement could not last. The slow dripping of coffee in the morning started to intrigue me more and more; I started eating more things with coffee flavoring and began to notice that you could put lots of fun things in coffee, like sugar and cream. Was it really that bad?
I looked at our innocent, white coffee maker with curiosity instead of suspicion. What if I made just one cup? I had a take-home midterm due the next day I hadn't started. Well, then I'd need three cups. I could put sugar in it. And cream. So I made a pot for myself on the sly. I figured no one would know about my indiscretion.
At first it wasn't so bad. It was kind of energizing. A little bitter, but I liked a drink with a kick at the end that kept me awake. I gingerly took another sip. Oooooh. I might be able to get used to this. Five gulps later, I forgot I wouldn't be sleeping that night. Three cups later and I forgot that I started out with four hours of sleep. Where had this magic drink been all my life?
I didn't count on its effects.
My roommates found me hours later in the stacks at Memorial library. I told them I had been counting the ceiling tiles and comparing it to the numbers of books, and it was really because if I held my hand steady for a while, it would start to shake, and if I put a pencil in it it was like I was drawing without thinking, as the caffeine was thinking for me.
They took me home, put me to bed and cut me off. It's back to tea from now on... maybe....
Are you a tea drinker who wants to experiment with Caitlin? E-mail her at cfcieslikmis@wisc.edu.
