Caffeine Withdrawal

It’s a hot Sunday in Tampa and I’m in need of a coffee. Not simply desirous of one, but experiencing a deep need brought on, perhaps, by a surplus of alcoholic beverages last night.

Brain states like this create the best thoughts for writing, so I pack up the laptop and drive to Joffrey’s at Channelside. It’s a pleasant corner establishment, and fits my creative mood. I might even wander to the cinema later and fall asleep.

Parking in Channelside requires navigating several tight turns into an outrageously priced multi-story garage - unless you happen to know about 12th Street. Taking into account the unknowns surrounding show times and a pre-cinema beer, for the cost of parking, the movie, popcorn and a Coke, you could buy a decent steak. However, I never buy popcorn and Coke at the movies and besides…

I know about 12th Street.

When I arrive, I find that digging machines, building supplies, foundation holes, concrete pilings and fences entirely block 12th Street. Even though I could sneak up on it by driving half a mile past the aquarium and around a pair of large-footprint residential towers, it seems that there is no way to get back to Joffrey’s on foot. In 95 degree heat and direct sun, without a hat and carrying a laptop, the prospect of walking that distance is far from pleasant, so I drive past and continue to an alternative coffee servery in Ybor City.

The Bunker on 19th Street in Ybor is a small independent place, just off the main drag. I have recollections of creative afternoons spent writing personal ads there in a vain attempt to add spice to a flagging romantic life. It’s not Joffrey’s but there’s a cinema close by, so all is not lost.

It’s closed.

Not because I’m too early or too late, but closed in the way that a business not caring about customers or profit would shut up shop for the summer – and that is what a sign on their door says. Why? I don’t get to stop work for an entire season, so why should they? This is shocking. If Starbucks did it, I’d die from a heart attack. Fortunately, I discover the situation on a drive-by, so I’m still in cool comfort as opposed to having walked two blocks in the sun.

Without further mental bitchin’, I continue to Starbucks, the third choice, which is right next to the movie theatre and therefore more convenient.

It’s gone out of business.

What? Starbucks cannot be out of business. This is outrageous. It’s like McDonalds voluntarily closing one of their grease-spots. The very foundations of my world have been rocked.

Joffrey’s, The Bunker and now Starbucks; one hundred percent of coffee attempts have failed. I realize that a sample of three is hardly representative of the entire coffee outlet population but I’m starting to get a bad feeling. Did I wake up on the wrong side of bed and fall through a black hole into a caffeine-free universe? Is there a demonic force at work intent of regulating my java intake? Has the current administration in Washington DC introduced a new and restrictive form of prohibition and no one told me?

This is like sweating the pedals all day on a bike ride with nothing for inspiration but the thought of a cold beer, only to reach the destination and learn that it’s a dry town. Discovering Hell isn’t so bad if you go looking for it but having it appear unexpectedly is just unfair.

After brief deliberation during which I consider ranting, screaming or simply breaking down in a puddle of tears, I reach the conclusion that I must return to trusted haunts near home. Panera bread may not be perfect, but it’ll do.

It’s whilst driving through the downtown area of Tampa - where nothing usually moves at weekends or after five on any other day - that I’m surprised and almost ecstatic to see an Indigo Coffee. True, it’s not Joffrey’s or Starbuck’s, but it’s a coffee shop, it’s open for business and it’s here. I park quickly, push coins into a meter and walk into air conditioned comfort. Fantastic. There’s even a good sized table by the window, with an electrical outlet for the laptop.

This is exactly the combination of facilities I wanted. It’s not noisy or crowded, I have power and a work location in which to write and will soon have a cuppa Joe.

Life is good.

Life is wonderful.

Life has swished from a hellish black hole to heaven.

The laptop boots up and I can almost feel ideas germinating in my brain. It’s as I place a cake and coffee cup on the table, tear open a brown sugar packet and pour it into the steaming brew that the serving person – whose personality, I have already detected, is missing a few points of humanitarian kindness – calls over from the counter.

They close at three o’clock.

In five minutes.