My Coffee Quest
Last summer when I was sulking in the banal tedium of the suburbs, I challenged my friends to visiting the ten top-ranked coffee houses in Denver. With my proximity to the city, I take every chance I can to experience the movement on the streets and the savvy crowds. Sometimes the fresh air of my sedentary, cookie-cutter suburb becomes too overwhelming and only the polluted, busy streets of the city can cure my itch. Plus, good coffee is my weakness, so going coffee house hopping seemed ideal. I often rally people behind my ideas, and that night my friends’ attitudes paralleled my competitive nature; they accepted my dare. Transforming into coffee connoisseurs, four of us proceeded to rate the beverages, atmospheres, and the people at each of the ten locations.
The aroma of sweat and coffee permeated the first dimly lit room we walked into. As we struggled to get to the counter, I had to squeeze between two men clad in tight pants, whose hair masked their brooding eyes. The “emo” scene wasn’t quite my cup of tea (or coffee), but I loved embracing my temporary discomfort to experience a different atmosphere. The environment served to expose my inhibitions and to remind me to push myself to expand my understanding. The second...
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