Cappuccino

Tammy posted something on Facebook that reminded me of a night watch when I was in the Navy. She questioned how much coffee is enough. I don't drink coffee. I never have. I never learned to get past the bitterness. When I was in the Navy, there was this one guy on my watch named Todd. Todd could drink some coffee. He drank about a pot a night. I'm not talking about one of those little Mr. Coffee pots like you have in your kitchen. No, he could drink one of those big, industrial size pots of coffee. You know, the ones that stand about 2 feet tall and are metal.

Anyway, one night there wasn't any coffee. I don't know if the pot was broken or if they were just out. As I said, I don't drink coffee, so I never paid much attention to those kinds of things. Now, the building we worked in was shaped sort of like an L. The Navy had one leg of the L, and NATO had the other. In the front of the NATO wing, there was a little greasy spoon and a couple of vending machines. I loved that greasy spoon. They could make my eggs just right. This was back before I was diagnosed allergic, of course. One guy, Rich, ordered the same breakfast every single day--two eggs over easy, bacon, and toast. He got to where he just walked in and told the cook, "The usual." She knew exactly what to make. Rich's breakfast just happened to be my favorite breakfast as well. In time, I could go over and order "Rich's Usual." She knew exactly what to make.

But I digress...

There wasn't any coffee, so Todd was going to the NATO wing to get some cappuccino out of the vending machine, and he asked me if I wanted one. I'd never had cappuccino, and I thought it was just like coffee. I replied that I didn't drink coffee, and Todd said, "This isn't coffee. It's cappuccino." Well, I'll try anything once, so I agreed to let him buy me a cappuccino. It was pretty good. I must say, however, that the best cappuccino I've ever had was at a little bar halfway up the side of Mt. Vesuvius. But that's beside the point.

So, Todd was buying himself cappuccinos throughout the night, and every time he bought himself one, he would bring me one too. By the end of that night, I was zipping around the place like a chihuahua on speed. When I got to work the next night, I asked Todd, "Please don't buy me any more cappuccinos."

For the entire rest of the time I was stationed there, Todd and I laughed about the night he bought me all those cappuccinos.

And I haven't had a decent cappuccino since I got back to the States. Well, not like the ones at that little bar half way up the side of Mt. Vesuvius.