The Mocha Addiction

On my way into work this morning I was reading The Redeye. There was a quick blurb in "F.Y.I. World" about a chimp in China that needs help to quit smoking. Apparently Ai Ai, a 26-year-old chimp, has a smoking problem. Yes, you read that right, a smoking problem. How does a chimp smoke you ask? Apparently after Ai Ai's first mate Jian Jian died she started scavenging for cigarette butts in her habitat. Eventually the zookeepers began giving her cigarettes on her own and lighting them for her. Ai Ai now has an addiction.

Like Ai Ai, I, too, have an addiction. I am addicted to Starbucks Mochas. I dream about it at night, I think about it while I ride the train to work, I lick my lips in anticipation as I count down the minutes until that sweet mocha-goodness touches my tongue. Mmmm, mocha goodness. I do try to resist. I get off the train and try to remember the way to my office sans Starbucks, but I just can't do it. I have tried weening myself off it by drinking lower-grade mochas. That only increased my craving for Starbucks that much more. The Mocha, like crystal meth, is an impossible habit to break.

It's funny that I am addicted to Starbucks. When I was younger the only coffee houses I frequented were the local ones. The Squeeze, Modo Miko, Coffee Chicago. These small coffee houses became extinct in our neighborhood as Starbucks moved in. I loathed them for taking away my favorite hangout spots. Starbucks had become a beacon for yuppies to move in. Starbucks was the devil. Pure evil.

In 1999 my (then) boyfriend and I went to New Orleans to celebrate New Years. There was a Starbucks in the hotel. I scoffed. My boyfriend thought I was nuts. "What's so wrong with Starbucks?" I gave him the evil eye. "Starbucks is the epitome of a cult. I can't stand them." He looked at me like I had three heads. "Have you ever tried one?" Jutting out my chin I said, "No. I refuse." He dragged me down to the lobby and bought a mocha. "Here", he said, shoving it at me. At first I was taken aback at the flavor. Whip cream, coffee, chocolate. Interesting. I took another sip. More mocha goodness. How could this be? Again, I sip. My brain went into a fit. I was torn between Starbucks the Devil and Starbucks the messenger of the mocha God. How could this be? I take another sip. It was pulling me in. I couldn't escape it. I guzzled the damn thing all the way down St. Charles Street. For the rest of our trip, I had a mocha a day. Looking back I can safely say I blame him for my addiction.

Ai Ai, I wish you the best of luck with your habit. I am trying my darndest to keep mine to a minimum. So far, only 3 Mochas this week.