I've accepted a few cups of coffee out of politeness over the years, and drank a few more on late night drives, but was otherwise not a regular drinker and had decided to save it for middle age. Now that I've passed that and am on the downward slope I decided that it might be time to take the plunge and see what all the fuss is about coffee. On one recent late night drive I picked up a small French Vanilla Latte from a drive thru along the highway, and was overcome by the waves of sweet goodness, and a few exits later picked up another–this time a medium–in order to prolong the experience. Soon I was sailing down he road in the middle of the night with a nice coffee buzz.
Since then I've been trying to get back to that first high but something is missing. It is always a little bitter, or not rich enough. This reminds of what heroin addicts say, that the first time is the best and thereafter you are always trying, but never succeeding, to get back to that first rush. I've decided that latte is an entry delivery method and am going to try to stop before I move on to black and end up on cappuccino, or whatever the progression is.