About a month ago, my Twitter feed was ABUZZ with joy of PSL’s (pumpkin soy latte’s) being back at Starbucks for Fall. Ever since, I’ve been cautiously curious about the hype. So yesterday, during a bout of siesta period induced yawning, I decided to trek over to Starbucks and check out the situation.
Honestly, I don’t drink coffee for the experience. I drink it because there are moments when zombie Karen makes her debut and I NEED coffee. Yes, I add some milk and sugar to take off the edge, but I usually just hit up the nearest pot or vat of coffee around me. Starbucks was a different experience from the fluorescent Engineering Cyber Cafe at Penn. There was low ambient lighting, wood paneling, homey stuff on the walls, and a neat stack of New York Times in the corner. I could imagine myself sitting at one of those small cozy tables with a coffee and vanilla scone getting a dose of Will Shortz crossword love with a kindred spirit.
I loved how even though my drink wasn’t complicated. The set of instructions communicated in the Starbucks code made my drink seem all the more exciting.
I loved waiting for my drink to be made, building up the anticipation.
I especially loved how my name was written on my cup in red curly girly script. ‘Karen.’ This is my coffee, made with love especially for me.
I always avoided Starbucks, because when you don’t really care about coffee, why would you pay more for it? But yesterday I entered a world where getting coffee was an EXPERIENCE, not just a beverage. Unfortunately, I liked it. I really liked it.