Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Coffee Talk

I can so vividly remember the first time I drank coffee. It wasn't to try to experience something grown up, but rather for the very same reason I did most of the things I did as a teenager - simply because my friends were doing it. Also, I was freezing. We stopped at the Dunkin' Donuts that was about a quarter of the way on our long, cold walk to school. At this time I was spending a lot of nights sleeping at other people's houses on school nights and going to punk shows. The friend's house that I would sleep over at most frequently lived on Smith Hill which was about 2 miles from our high school in Fox Point. We were such a strange mix of rebel kids going to punk shows (underage) on school nights, but then diligently waking up (on time) for school the next day, walking all the way in the cold. The fact that we were wearing the same clothes as the night before, the same clothes that we slept in that night, was of little concern. Each one of those mornings I turned my tights around so that the baggy knees were behind me, and that there's a metaphor for life, people.

So there I was, freezing, in a Champion sweatshirt (a poor excuse for a proper winter jacket), a miniskirt, tights (turned backwards) and boots. Not cozy boots, mind you, like the kids now wear, ice cold Doc Martins. A shaved head (no hat), sipping my new best friend, coffee - done up RI style - extra extra, because let's face it, that's where we all started, right?

We walked by the State House and I ripped down a poster from the show the night before, the sugary, hot drink in hand, my friends by my side, I was ready for school.

Here I am once I had wised up and acquired not only a jacket, but a scarf and hat, in the old, downtown bus station. Not pictured: coffee.