On Saturday, I went to Portland Brew in East Nashville with a hankering for coffee. I should preface this by saying I don't really drink coffee very often, just when a hankering comes along or when I'm so tired that three Dr. Peppers won't do the trick. At any rate, my wife and I each ordered an iced coffee, added a little cream and sugar, and headed home. About a half-hour later, we both started feeling jittery. By an hour later, I was trembling and felt so mixed up I couldn't finish my lunch. I thought:
1. Did I wake up this morning with the worst hangover in the world and decide to take a bunch of speed?
2. Maybe I did 15 rails of coke and blacked out for the part where you feel awesome.
3. Is this what smoking crack is like? That would explain a lot about Whitney.
Now, I'm aware that coffee houses typically make a stronger brew for their iced coffees, to offset the weakening that happens with the pack melt. But, damn, that stuff about took my head off. Perhaps we should make a jolt meter or something and assign each cafe a number. Call it fair warning.