The Art of Importing Coffee

True Story: While walking to work, I notice a cute cop blocking the entrance to the Hoboken PATH station. We lock eyes; I blush. Gesturing to my large iced coffee*, he says, "You can't take that in there, miss." My jaw drops when I realize that no, Cute Cop is not flirting with me. The man is serious. "Are you serious?" I ask, panic rising in my voice. "You can't be serious. It's Monday. This is my morning coffee." His curt reply: "Yes. You have to toss it out."

It is then that I notice four other cops standing around, regulating coffee imports into New York. There are also about 10 pissed-off commuters sucking down their coffees. I make puppy dog eyes at the officer (I've gotten out of speeding tickets this way, surely he will make an exception for me and my beloved beverage?) He snarls, "Don't look so sad. I've been up since 3:30am..." I block him out, sip suck down my coffee and seriously consider sprinting across the street to the unguarded, unused PATH station entrance, coffee in hand. I debate running home, switching outfits and returning with coffee securely hidden in handbag, foiling their plan...

A Hot, Steaming Cup of...

Imagine my surprise when I saw that someone was finally tearing down Hoboken's own Fabco Shoes — New Jersey's disastrous equivalent to a Payless Outlet store. My mind drifted... What could they possibly be putting in its place? Perhaps an Urban Outfitters or another much-needed dive bar? Delight soon turned to disdain when I noticed the "Coming Soon" sign: Starbucks. The third Starbucks in my tiny one-square-mile town of Hoboken. Everyone and their mom has an opinion on the coffee franchise. Here's mine:

Manhattan alone has 200 stores within its 23-square-mile vicinity. That's eight Starbucks per mile. If I were to stand where I work on the corner of 23rd Street & 6th Avenue, there would be not one, but two Starbucks in my line of sight. Ridiculous, right? But I have yet to boycott the establishment. SBs is good for two things: The Skinny Vanilla Latte and their fine offering of Holiday Lattes, served the last three months of every year.

But the one thing that I (and thousands of others, no less) can't get past is their actual "coffee." Their ass-tasting black tar coffee is bitter, disgusting and tastes like the charred bits one might find at the bottom of a barbecue grill. The SB higher-ups knew this, which is why they recently introduced their "smoothest coffee ever," the Pike Place Roast. Where Pike Place is, I have no idea. I just know they chose to promote it back in March by handing out free PPR coupons on every Manhattan street corner. So I tried it, only because it was free. Verdict? The PPR may as well be a 10-year-old can of PBR it was so gut-wrenching. 

How does SB even stay in business, let alone build a new franchise every 2.5 seconds? Oh, right. The Pumpkin Spice Latte.