Its 2 p.m. and my flight from San Francisco to
Newark has just been canceled. “We can not fly anyone out until Monday night
after the storm passes,” the flight attendant tells me. After I mentally roll
my eyes at the airline employee, and take a meditative deep breath through my
nose, I call my dad. In a more calm conversational tone, I tell my dad my
dilemma: I have a midterm exam on Monday, and need to be home by tomorrow the
latest. Dad tells me to go purchase a standby ticket from another airline
company.
Following my dad’s collected and wise advice, I find my way
over to United Airlines and purchase the ticket as told. I see five different
potential flights, ranging from 2 p.m. – 10 p.m. This leaves me with a
merciless six hours in San Francisco International Airport.
The longing for a cup of iced or hot coffee to get me
through the next few hours begins to crawl under my skin like a parasitic
disease. However, I can’t appease my craving, for I have been coffee-less for
the past week.
Being an avid coffee drinker since the age of 16, it is safe
to say that coffee is a staple in my diet. My addiction was rendered through my
mom, who has forever embraced the sunrise with the smell of dark French roast
coffee. These mornings before high school were characterized by lazy conversations
over the kitchen table, while we sipped the hot dark liquid from our rainbow
assorted coffee cups.
Through out the years, I submitted myself to the seduction
of the taste, which has consequently affected my ability to feel awake
naturally. In high school health class I rubbed off the lessons in which
teachers told us caffeine is an addictive drug. Although science can explain
the reasons, I never thought it was something I would find myself dependent on.
But as I sat in the airport with nothing to do but await my impending
flight, I realized the seriousness of my addiction. The front of my head ached
like there was a man pounding my skull with iron fists. My eyelids felt as
though they were window blinds being pulled shut. I needed coffee but I continued
to resist my temptation.
That night around 10:35 p.m., I got on a red-eye flight
back home. At this point, my internal body clock had completely malfunctioned
and the back of my neck was ready to snap off and walk away from me.
Although this experience was awakening to the seriousness of
my coffee addiction, coffee is something that I am not willing to give up.
Admit me to an anonymous meeting, but the smell, taste and feeling of coffee in
the presence of morning’s dew becomes irreplaceable. These moments of small
conversations at the kitchen table signify the small treasures in life that if
not celebrated, become just another monotonous day in the life.
Jenny Goldberg is a sophomore at Rutgers University with a
major in Journalism and Media and minor in Cinema studies.
