Liquid Heaven . . . Or Is It Hell?

August 5, 2010

For those following in RSS feed, this post is better viewed at it’s original location at The Passionate Plate.

I woke up this morning with a need to confess, to rid myself of a secret shame I’ve been carrying for far too long. They say we’re only as sick as our secrets and so today is the day I begin to get well. I only hope you don’t love and/or worship me less once you’ve been exposed to my deep, dark secret.

I love Starbucks. No. It’s worse than that. I ❤ Starbucks.

6 Signs I ❤ Starbucks.
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1. I have a personalized gold Starbucks card.

2. I track my gold card star credits regularly on my Starbucks iPhone app.

3. I collect Starbucks cards. 374 cards at last tally.

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4. I spend time posing and stacking my Starbucks cards. Just for the fun of it.

.5. When I see a Starbucks on every corner I get just a little teary.

6. I’m blogging this post from one of three Starbucks where they welcome me by name and know my standing order.

Wow. It’s true. Confession is better for the soul. I do feel better. I’m just so glad the brutal ugliness of my revelation didn’t send you running…..

Hey! Wait! Come back!!!

I wasn’t always like this you know. There was a time in my life when I didn’t ❤ Starbucks. There was a time when I turned my nose up at the idea of drinking caffeinated swill from an automated push button espresso machine. There was a day when the only places worthy of feeding my espresso thirst were eclectic, hip slick and cool places like

and

and

and

and

Where you stand among the huddled, yearning masses in a dimly lit cave and wait . . .

. . . for guys sporting tattooed arms, nose piercings and wool caps in summer  (don’t so much as think of calling them baristas) . . .

. . . to make you a real espresso in a real cup and saucer in a way that elevates a simple beverage into art.

Oh yes. There was a day when that was how I rolled, but that was before the international incident that took place in the summer of 2008 that changed my life forever. It happened in Greece.

Greece. The country of milky iced frappes served in chilled glasses at a sidewalk cafe.

Greece. The country where a mid-afternoon espresso is savored overlooking a valley of olive trees.

Greece. The country where the espresso is so thick and so strong it would best served with
a knife and a fork rather than a spoon and a biscuit.

Greece. The country where in record-breaking heatwaves offers only one smoke-free, air-conditioned, and WIFI-accessible oasis in which the sweaty traveler can flee to escape temperatures of 115.

Greece led to my ruin. This is the tormented tale that led to my downfall, that brought me to where I am today. Yes, it’s true. I ❤ Starbucks and that my friends, is the greatest Greek tragedy of all.

Posted in Greece