Coffee, Tea, or Me? was the title of a 1960s humor book purportedly written by stewardesses. I glimpsed it on the book rack at Woolworth’s and thought it hilarious. (I was in elementary school.) I was in a phase where it took little to make me laugh. I begged for a t-shirt with the slogan: I LOVE MY JOB, IT’S THE WORK I HATE. Okay, okay, Mom gave in. That kind of humor appeals to a demographic that does not have jobs.
I remember the title, Coffee, Tea, or Me? when I order at at a coffeehouse. Shall I splurge on a latte or mocha? “Hot or cold?” they ask tonelessly. Hot, always. Medium, please. I also love tea, so why have I never tried a tea or is it a chai latte?
When the first Starbucks opened in Des Moines in 2002, Jay Leno joked about it in his monologue. He said that Des Moines was the last city in the country to get a Starbucks. “That’s a source of pride more likely, Jay,” I said when I read it in a magazine.
At the end of the 20th century, economists warned that Starbucks would put the indies out of business. On the contrary, independent coffeehouses thrive, or so it seems in my travels. Starbucks and the Minnesota-based Caribou dominate in the U.S., but there are also many quieter indie coffeehouses with a less obvious presence. Those are the coffeehouses the locals know about. They’re the not-so-secret caffeinated small businesses.
One day I was in line at Starbucks and a desperate woman started babbling. “I just moved here from California. I say I can live anywhere if there’s Starbucks and Target.”
“I know what you mean.” And believe me, I did. I would have added Borders to the list, but it soon went out of business.
In London they have Starbucks, Caffe Nero, and Costa. None of these serve American coffee. You have to order a flat white or a latte. Do not, I repeat, do not order the Americano, which tastes like coal dipped in water.
And that’s why I cannot move to the UK. They don’t have the right kind of Starbucks. It’s a faux Starbucks. Starbucks is about coffee, right? If Starbucks does not have coffee, it’s not a Starbucks. And that’s why I sigh with relief when I find Starbucks at an airport in the U.S. Coffee! I’m home. I don’t care if it’s New York, South Carolina, or Texas. All Starbucks are created equal, and all the coffee is good. I pledge my allegiance to… No, that’s going too far.