Long Day's Journey Into Decaf
I do remember that the usual morning crowd was there, but strangely silent. The normal conversational hubbub, punctuated by the occasional loud burst of laughter, was absent.
Something in the back of my mind said leave, leave now.
But no, I took my usual stool at the counter. As I looked around, I could see something was very much amiss. But what? Was there a maniac with a sawed-off shotgun in the kitchen holding everyone hostage? Or worse, were they out of cinnamon-sugar donuts?
Ah, if only.
When the little Cambodian waitress came over to me, she wasn't bearing the usual brimming cup of coffee and her usual bright smile. No, she had a Styrofoam cup in one hand, an apology in her eyes -- and a green packet of instant decaf (Oh, the pain! The pain! Breathe! Deep, cleansing breath! Let it out, three, two, one ... )
Okay, where was I? Oh, yes. Instant! Decaf! And she was setting this abomination down in front of ME!
"No coffee today," she said. "Instant only. Machine broken."
I tried to laugh. No coffee. Right. Sweet thing, always with the jokes. "Yeah, sure okay, no coffee," I repeated. "Funny. Had me going there, for a minute. Now get that impotant, instant dreck out of my sight and bring me the real stuff!"
"No joke," she said. "Coffee machine broken."
I looked over at the automatic, plumbed-in machine that brewed fresh-ground Cain's coffee -- MY coffee, my universe, my reason for living at 9 in the morning. Life, thy name is Bunn!
The glass pots were empty -- oh, so horribly empty. The unit was cold, a lifeless, unfeeling lump of stainless steel and copper tubing. Not a wisp of steam arose from it, no fragrant, heaping-full filter basket hung from the little bracket.
Little beads of sweat broke out on my upper lip. "No," I said. "No, no, no ... " I turned and looked out the window where the sign, as it had for thirty years, still promised "Great Coffee!"
I felt something pop inside my head.
"No, look, see," I pleaded, my voice cracking. "See, right out there -- "Great Coffee? You have to have Great Coffee if the sign says Great Coffee, you can't advertise Great Coffee if you don't have Great Coffee, that would be a lie, it would be a SIN ... " I felt faint. "The sign, the sign, it says Great Coffee, so just ... give me some ... GREAT COFFEE!"
I looked around me. The other customers had all quietly moved down to the far end of the counter; one was talking quietly on his cell phone.
"No coffee today. Machine broken," the waitress said yet again and I thought, why does she keep saying that.? I mean, the sign ...
"Decaf only." She set the Styrofoam cup of hot water and that ... (oh God, breathe, breathe -- hold it -- let it out, two, three, four) ... and that vile green foil packet in front of me.
"NOOOO!" I started to jump over the counter, but Officer Wiedermeyer, who had seen what was coming and quietly positioned himself behind me, grabbed me in a bear-hug before I could move. "You've called the coffee people, right? They'll come and fix it, right? So I can have my Great Coffee?" I struggled in Officer Wiedermeyer's viselike grip. "Let me go," I pleaded, "please, I'll just sit down and wait for the coffee people to fix the machine. They'll be here in just a minute ... "
"Maybe tomorrow," the waitress said. "No coffee today."
Outside, I heard the keening of a distant siren. "No, no," I said, "Listen, here they come! The Bunn-O-Matic Emergency Response Team, right? Yes! Ahh-ha-ha-hahaha! I knew they'd make it. Hee-hee-hee! You have a SIGN, for the love of God! Signs don't lie, not about Great Coffee!"
The siren pulled up outside and stopped. Two brawny men in orange jumpsuits came in with a stretcher. "Thank God you're here! There's the machine, fix it now, please. Please ...?"
One of them grasped my right arm. "I'm going to get Great Coffee! Right? Great Coffee, hahahahaha ... !"
I felt a sharp prick. The world began spinning.
"Don't worry, Mr. Rizley, we'll get you some Great Coffee," a strangely distant, receding, voice said. "We'll ALL have some Great Coffee. It's all going to be just fine, now ..."
