This morning I was a little cleverer. I took a thermos. The one cup of coffee was not really enough. Cleverer in that I brought a thermos, not so clever in that I did not discern when the place, called Joe’s something or other, opened. Yesterday when I went out I didn’t really think about the time but it was early, still dark. There were people already having beers at the tiny, three-stool bar and they hadn’t just been served. I have to admire people who can do that. The guy sitting in front of me on the flight coming here had 2 bloody marys and 2 beers in the space of 2 hours. We departed at 8:15 am. And he was not young.
Anyway, I went out at 5:58 this morning assuming I’d find the same beer swilling crowd. But I was wrong. It opens at 6:30. I had to waltz around town a few times, peering into shop windows featuring thousand dollar glass sculptures of rabbits skiing or golfing before Joe’s opened and then I had to stand in line while a bunch of drivers from Mountain Express, ruddy faced, macho ski-all-year types who all ordered half-caf frappicino lattes with mocha shots or some damn thing.
I got a thermos of black coffee, straight up, thank you very much. It was the “morning blend” however, not the double caffeinated french roast. I like to be awake when I’m shivering my ass off on the slopes. But not jittery.
