Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Stairway To Caffiene

Happy little coffee all for me. 

Mornings are a groggy affair at best.  Shake the sand out of my head, figure out where I am, wonder if I'm wearing pants.  Sometimes there isn't time for coffee so I stumble off trying to remember what day it is.  Today it's particularly bad. I'm running late and I can't think straight.  I may have put two different sneakers on the wrong feet and I could swear my underwear is bunched up on one side making each step an exhilarating exercise in patience. 

I need coffee. 

Coffee is my respite, my sanctum of sanctums.  It is where the infusion of life and clarity occur.   After that first sip the lights upstairs click on.  After the second I remember what I look like.  After the third it's, "Good morning, ladies. Fancy meeting you here." 

I drag myself around the corner to the fancy schmancy coffee shop. Fine, I'll sit for a moment and sip the haughty brew-of-the-day.  Today it was something from Mexico I think. I didn't care. All I needed was for it to be in a cup and hot. I'd settle for it in my lap at this point.  I ordered. I received. I dolled it up with milk and sugar, unrefined if you will, and sat among the tired masses.  People reading phones and tablets. People talking into earbuds. People resting weary heads on tired hands. And me. 

It was then that I heard the music, uncommon for a cafe.  Ooooh, what's this?  Why, it's Led Zeppelin, Stairway To Heaven, the live version on The Song Remains The Same.  We're at the good part where it builds into a sonic barrage of awesome.  I am reminded that my father, long gone, loved this part.

He used to call me while I was busy at work.  He'd be driving around and he'd put the phone up to the speaker and yell, "You hear that? YOU HEAR THAT?!?!  DUDE, I LOVE THIS FREAKING SONG!!"  He'd be singing and screaming the guitar parts.  I'd join him in my crowded office, onlookers be damned. It always made me wish I could ditch work and hang out with him because I knew there wasn't much time.  Alas, the things we should have done.

There I was, drowsy, cross eyed with tired and it made me smile. It made me miss him. It made me sing. In the coffee shop. Loud. 

AND AS WE WIND ON DOWN THE ROAD, (banging hands on table)
OUR SHADOWS TALLER THAN OUR SOUL, (chugging guitar part on my outstretched leg)
THERE WALKS A LADY WE ALL KNOW, (singing into sugar dispenser)
WHO SHINES WHITE LIGHT AND WANTS TO SHOW, (shaking person next to me)
HOW EVERYTHING STILL TURNS TO GOLD, (now doing all these things at once)

um, sir....





It was then that I was asked to leave the premises as I was awakening the other customers.  I got up, took a deep bow and left.   And I hadn't even had a sip yet...

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