How to survive the late night grind
A long night of essays brought me closer to coffee Serena Lalani
My relationship with coffee began as a facade. During undergrad, I would travel to aesthetically pleasing cafés around Toronto, not for the beans and brews, but for nice-looking social media content. It wasn’t until I actually needed the help of coffee that I truly appreciated its value.
Like most students, I spent the majority of my time procrastinating, and the end of my third semester was no exception. I distinctly remember glancing at my phone calendar one afternoon and thinking to myself, “That can’t be right. Two final essays due a day away?”
After panicking for what felt like an hour, I sat down and tried to decide if it was even realistic to tackle two major assessments in one night. “Alright, you can do this,” I thought to myself, as if I had a choice. I walked into my kitchen and started tossing out everything from the cabinets, in search of an energy drink or coffee. It was abnormal for me to have either of those things lying around so I knew I probably wasn’t in luck.
I threw my jacket over my shoulders, speed- walked out of my apartment and made my way to the Starbucks across the street. As I stood in line, I grew impatient. “Can I have a dairy- free, fat- free, latté?” asked the woman in front of me. “Actually, I think I’ll just have a green tea.”
As she reached into her wallet to grab her credit card, she corrected herself one more time. I rolled my eyes as far back as they could go and bit my lip to avoid slipping an unpleasant word.
Thankfully, a second barista appeared at an empty cash register after hearing the indecisiveness. As I approached the counter, I realized that I had only ordered coffee a handful of times prior to that day. I went with my gut and decided to keep things simple. “I’ll have a coffee, please.”
The barista looked at me as if I had just spoken in a foreign language. “Yeah. That’s what we have here,” she said with sass. “What kind of coffee do you want?”
I really had no clue what “kinds” of coffees even existed other than lattés and cappuccinos, neither of which I was too fond of at the time. Without thinking, I just said, “Black.” I had seen every single episode of Gilmore Girls and they practically inhaled black coffee regularly so I figured that if they can do it, so could I. After all, I desperately needed the fuel.
I grabbed the branded cup with my misspelled name and made my way back home. I sat at my desk with my laptop and began typing faster than I ever had before. I reached for the cup and had my very first sip. It was bitter and strange and yet oddly satisfying to drink.
After gulping down the entire thing, my body felt tired, but my mind didn’t.
Throughout the night I drank three more coffees, thanks to my neighbour who happened to have a Keurig. I eventually saw beams from the sun appearing on my bedroom walls.
Somehow, I had successfully managed to cram 4,000 words into five hours. “I actually pulled this off,” I thought to myself. But what I had actually accomplished was greater than completing two essays under the gun. I had set myself up for a lifelong appreciation of coffee – for which the only filter I’ ll need is the one in the coffee machine, not on Instagram.