the confessional

I occasionally do things that are, for lack of a more elegant description, weird.

No different when it comes to coffee.  Here’s an example.

I used to live in New Delhi, India, and I traveled frequently.  At the start of one of my many trips I was waiting in the Delhi airport for my flight, and badly wanted a cup of coffee.

The gate was across from a Starbucks.

That wasn’t an option that interested me.  I had a better idea.

So from my carry-on bag I pulled out my stash of coffee beans and my hand grinder, and sat in my seat at the gate grinding up a dose of beans.  When done, I popped the grinder back in my bag and strolled across to the Starbucks.

I ordered a cup of steamed milk and a cup of hot water, and asked if I could use an empty coffee cup for my drink.

I sat down with the cups, then reached into the bag for my AeroPress, a filter, and the grinder with the freshly ground coffee inside. I proceeded to make my own, non-Starbucks coffee. At a Starbucks.

Unfortunately my wife and children weren’t with me, so they were only mortified by the description and not by the act itself.

 

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