Dear Cool Beans,
Based on the number of times I have eagerly ordered caramel iced coffees from you, you may be expecting a thank-you letter expressing all my deepest affections and utter gratefulness. Please, stop being so full of yourself. If anything, this is a letter of spite regarding the fact that you are the sole reason my dining dollars are already dipping below the halfway mark. If this is a sign of how I will one day manage my spending – you are a dark foreshadowing of my almost certain credit card debt. So thanks, Cool Beans, for convincing me that an “eh, why not?” mindset is how I should approach my purchasing decisions. I seriously do NOT need a blueberry scone right now, but, what do you know, I’m buying one anyway. And even as the quickly descending dining dollars glare at me every time I swipe, I can’t help but be pulled by some magnetic, caffeinated force to your counter each morning.
And on top of that, Cool Beans, you mercilessly fuel my borderline-dangerous coffee addiction! It’s concerning that I depend on you to transform me from a zombie to a normal-functioning human each morning. Seriously, your iced lattes are accessories to my outfits at this point, and it needs to stop! When approximately ¾ of my daily snapchats are some version of me holding one of your coffee cups, there’s definitely an issue, and even my mom’s stream of emails detailing the “dark side of coffee” can’t save me. Don’t even try to suggest I try your iced tea, Cool Beans, because no matter how much sugar I load into one of those it could never compare to the thick syrupy goodness of the vanilla/hazelnut I request in all of my iced coffees. When I actually do go through with the depressing act of ordering an iced tea, I find myself shooting glares of bitter jealousy at people who made the right decision and are blissfully enjoying their coffees.
However, secretly, Cool Beans, I must ashamedly admit a deep love for you. Being trapped on the Hill without a Dunkin or Starbucks in sight is a daunting struggle, and though I would be hard pressed to compare you to the big leagues, I will concede that you are a decent substitute. You can offer me a refreshingly cool burst of energy after a long haul in the sauna-like Dinand or a cozy pick-me-up after trekking back from Stein in the dead of winter. Those days when I unsuspectingly approach the counter just as you place a fresh batch of giant cookies by the register– that’s when I know the stars have aligned for me.
So, though I may roll my eyes at the length of your lines or the fact that you only allow me one (tiny) package of cream cheese with my bagel, know that I cherish you, Cool Beans. You are the most loyal of friends – always there with a celebratory latte on a Friday afternoon or a much-needed coffee on my way to practicum. I know I said I wouldn’t say it, but I guess I will – thank you, Cool Beans, you rock – (except for the cream cheese thing, which I really think you should be more generous about).
Your faithful coffee addict forever,
Emily