Lux Motel, Ibiza, Spain 2 -

An open letter to the lady at the coffee shop

How does your coffee suck? Let me count the ways.

First I'd like you to explain the process by which you make your coffee so very flavourless. From what I understand, coffee is produced by a very simple process of percolating H2O through ground coffee beans. I also understand that coffee beans are, by their very nature, a rather pungent bean. This leads one to the very natural conclusion that all coffee should, in the very least, have some modicum of flavour. In this, you have proven me wrong. So wrong. So flavourless is your coffee, Coffee Shop Lady, that I am, at times, able to convince myself that I am drinking water. Dish water, that is.

This leads me to the subject of the very interesting colour of your coffee. For a liquid so devoid of flavour, one would expect that it would also be utterly devoid of colour. But this is not the case. No, your coffee does not possess the typical rich brown hues commonly associated with coffee. Maybe you found that particular colour to be unpleasant, unappealing, unattractive. Maybe you found the mundane brown colour so unsatisfactory that you set out to invent a new colour for coffee. Thus, you somehow found a way to lend a rather unique yellow colour to your blend of coffee. A yellow colour that, when mixed with cream, becomes an interesting malarial off-white colour. (Rather pretty, I must say. Inspiring, even. I might, in fact, paint the walls of my home that very colour - should I ever have a home again.)

And the texture. Texture? Yes, texture. How is it that I manage to consistantly find grounds in my cup? And not even just at the bottom - which would be almost forgivable - but somehow floating throughout, as though defying the very laws of physics by which most of us have to live. Yes, you've somehow managed to instill the curious quality of neutral buoyancy in your coffee, and for this you do deserve some reluctant applause.

There are many other things I'd like you to explain to me, Coffee Shop Lady - the dirty cups your foul beverage is served in, the displeasing temperature at which you choose to serve it, and, indeed, the deplorable conditions of your establishment in general - but these will have to wait for another time.

You see, I have something to do right now; I'm really craving a coffee. And, due to my rather lackadaisical approach to dealing with such pressing matters as these, you'll be seeing me in about three minutes. You are, after all, the closest coffee-selling outlet to my current residence. Yes, in about three minutes I'll walk through the door of your repulsive establishment, I'll smile and ask for an extra large double double to go, and in thirty seconds more you'll slide a big cup of that disgusting brew across the counter to me. I'll pay you, thank you, even, and raise that paper cup to my lips in joy, taking a sip. Sating my addiction.

Thank you, Coffee Shop Lady. From the very bottom of my nauseous guts.