33,000 Feet of Coffee

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Forgive me. I am drinking Seattle’s Best. Flying from Orlando to LA, I want to stay awake to avoid jet lag. Having never used melatonin successfully, I decided to give Seattle’s Best a chance. This actually wasn’t a conscious decision. While sipping on tomato juice, a stressed looking stewardess came walking up the aisle shouting “coffee or tea?”. Because there’s part of my brain wired to activate when “coffee” is mentioned, after making eye contact with the stewardess, I suddenly found myself with a styrofoam cup of Seattle’s Best on my tray table.

Don’t get me wrong. I regard Seattle’s Best only slightly more preferable than Starbucks, but given my boredom, I am going to critique it. It doesn’t smell too promising: coffee with aromas of styrofoam. The taste is comparable to scalding water with hints of hazelnut…or maybe that’s just my taste buds playing tricks on me. When backlit, it appears strangely green; think brackish water. It’s palatable, however, and I haven’t gaged yet, so I suppose it could be worse. Maybe coffee tastes better at 33,000 feet, or maybe this magnificent sunset out of the port window spurs optimism, but I have no legitimate qualms about Seattle’s Best at the moment.

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