As I am sitting writing today, I remembered stealing this cup of strong Irish coffee (I had requested no cream, and extra double espresso shot!!) with you (in some crazy part of New England). You had gleefully warned me, that this could be lethal :-).
And I smiled clumsily - and said, I need this drink to go through the day.
"I am that bad, ah?" you said.
"No, you are so bloody fab, that I need to remain sane, restrained and yes, take my edge away."
You laughed with your head tilting backwards. The uncomfortable laugh of knowing that someone loves you so deeply, and yet pays you a back-handed compliment.
This was an era when I had still not fallen in love with strong coffees. I remember sipping through this brown poison slowly over the next few hours. Almost struggling. You meanwhile finished 2 more shots of espresso - and that vivid picture has stayed with me till today.
My memory fails me for many bits from around that day, but I clearly do remember thinking - if you can manage so much fking coffee, you can only be many assed more crazy than me. Who sits with a friend and chomps on such strong stuff.....I knew, I needed to get my edge off, what demons were you fighting?
I did have a good guess then, and I have a even better guess today.
You were desperately fighting that feeling in your head. One that stemmed from me.
Final score. You won. We lost.
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