I’m so old fashioned. Or as they say, “I’m so 10 years ago.”

I don’t visit coffee places much. I still don’t understand them and they actually scare me. What do you call them anyway? Coffee places? Coffee shops? Porn shops?

Most of what you would consider my mental and emotional makeup was formed when I was about 25 years old. It all happened in one day actually, I think it was a Tuesday. April. Yeah. A Tuesday in April. So everything I understand about life came to my mind on that day and that day only. Everything that has appeared in our culture since then is confusing to me.

I’m not “up on things” like I should be. I would prefer to say I’m not “hip,” but chances are you’re too young to understand what the hell I’m referring to. This includes coffee places. The number of times I’ve been in a coffee place since the early 1990′s can be counted on one hand. Two hands if your hands are small. To me, coffee is something you make at 5 am in a drip coffee maker. You add powdered imitation creamer if you like, or sugar or heroin if you’re an addict.. If you don’t know what a drip coffee maker is I don’t have time to explain it to you.

I don’t know how to behave in those coffee places, and sure as hell have no idea what to order most of the time or how to order it. I’m not sure but from what I’ve heard you can buy cookies and other baked goods as well as weird little snacks that look like sushi that come on these funky white plates that look like they’re from the Jetson’s cartoon on TV. Oh, God. You probably don’t know what the hell The Jetson’s are either…

I think the biggest reason I don’t go in those places is I’m a coffee moron. I don’t know how to read the menu, and I don’t know what the descriptions mean. The people behind the counter are always real nice, but they talk fast like they’re on crack and when they ask you what you want, THEY WANT ANSWERS NOW, MISTER!

I’ll give you an example of what I mean. True story: I was driving with someone about a year ago, it would be a year and a half if you’re looking at a small calendar. The person I was with said, “Can we stop so I can get a latte?” I got real nervous, as if someone had just asked if we could stop on the street corner and buy drugs. “Yeah, sure” I said.. I figured I would just stay in the car because I heard a rumor that in coffee places coffee morons get beat up by thugs with baseball bats.

We stopped in the parking lot, right outside the front door. My companion asked if I wanted anything as she was getting out of the car. She started a conversation that went something like this:

“Sure you don’t want anything? Don’t you want a latte or something?”
“Yeah, sure I’ll have a latte.”
“What size do you want?”
“I’ll have a regular.”
“They don’t have regulars. You want a 12 or 16 ounce?”
“Yeah, get me either one.”
“You want soy?” “What…. (thinking fast)…. You mean soy sauce?”
“No, soy milk.”
“No, don’t want soy.”
“You want it light?”
“Well, I want to carry it with one hand so I guess so. It can’t be too heavy.”
“Why do you come in with me. Its a nice place.”

So, I went in. I sort of meandered around in the back of the place away from the counter trying to look like a homeless person so I wouldn’t be bothered by the staff. I didn’t want them to figure out I was a coffee moron and beat me up.

They noticed me of course. A nice young lady asked how I was doing, and I mumbled something about none of your f*cking business or something like that. Then she trapped me. My companion had ordered for me but the lady behind the counter asked me a question, and the staff in those places ask you real fast to trick you into buying stuff you don’t want.. It was something like this: (you have to read this real fast to get the proper effect) “Whileyourewaitingwouldyouliketotryafrickenfrackpastryoraglutenfreegraincracker
withraspberryjaminsidewealsohavecdswithpeterframptonmusicplayingbackwards.”

Remember, I can’t look like a coffee moron so I just kinda did a little shuffle and gave her a “I know what I’m doing look” and said “Let me get back to you on that.”

I didn’t want to ask her to explain in simple two syllable words what the hell she was trying to sell me, because then the coffee moron siren would go off and…. You know, I’d be beat up out in the street. I didn’t want to say yes, because she talked so fast for all I know she could have been selling me a car. Or two.

My companion mumbled something to the lady behind the counter who tried to sell me a car then turned to me and asked if I wanted a whip too.. I freaked out.. “My god! Don’t talk about that kind of stuff in here. There’s kids in the place!” Now I’m standing there thinking I’m a coffee moron and a pop culture sex moron because I don’t know how to get whipped and drink a latte at the same time.

I think they should have special coffee places for coffee morons. Just some tables and chairs, coffee cups, a drip coffee maker, some powdered creamer, and heroin just in case you’re an addict. I’ll be the first customer. Maybe the only one. But at least I won’t get beat up.

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