A non-coffee drinker muses about living in a coffee…

A non-coffee drinker muses about living in a coffee world.

I’m a rare breed. I don’t drink coffee. The smell of coffee is not enjoyable to me. The taste is worse.

I’m not a health nut. I’m not anti-caffeine. I just never got pulled onto the coffee train.

Coffee is everywhere. People meet over coffee. They drink it first thing in the morning. They drink it after meals. My girlfriend drinks it. My brothers love it. My mom thrived on it. My good college friend worshipped it.

It’s beyond beverage. It’s carried and embibed on the go. On a commuter train or subway coffee is everywhere. It’s constantly juggled by people at work, in cars, and at home. Coffee doesn’t stop folks from going about their business. It’s an extension. A neccessity. It’s no stranger then wearing a watch or a scarf. People stop for it every day. Better late and with coffee then to be without.

And it’s spilled. Only toddler juice bottles and beer in the hands of the drunk is spilled more. Coffee stains abound on shirts, rugs, and papers.

Coffee makers. Spices. Cold or hot. Flavored ice cream. Dark, strong, decaf, weak, black, sugar, honey, whipped cream, lattes, cappuchino, espresso, syrup, pots, single servings.

I feel left out!

I could be surrounded by a devout church, a mob of someone else’s friends, or secret government cabal and not feel like as much of an outsider as I do when I think about coffee.