I don’t trust drive-through windows with my coffee. Quite often I don’t trust fast-food cashiers with my coffee, either. It’s not that I’m picky. Sure, I love my coffee as much as anyone, maybe more than most. I’m neurotic beyond just plain wired, most of the time. So why am I frenzied whenever I order McDonalds coffee (and only McDonalds coffee, but we’ll tackle that little kernel of my particularity in a moment)? Because counter-people never grasp the concept of “room for cream”, they never do. Driving any distance with an open cup in the holder just inches from my right leg, is like anxiously awaiting, dreaming about the amputation of your left hand. Years ago, my mother spilled too-hot McDonalds’ coffee into her lap, and had to visit the emergency room. That was before someone successfully sued the fast-food behemoth and won a sizeable settlement after experiencing the same, ahem, sensation.
This is the reason why I cannot order coffee in a drive-through, especially when I drove on many occasions between Minneapolis and Milwaukee; a six-hour trip which balances out to one cup of coffee per three hours of driving (the first bought upon departure, the second purchased at the half-way point with a tank of gas and a bathroom break). Somewhere around Tomah, where the only vistas are long rows of marshy cranberry bogs like freshly mowed fields, my only entertainment is the CD player and Styrofoam cup. I need physical activity in order to keep from being hypnotized by nothingness. Coffee is a flinch. Fortunately there’s at least one McDonalds near Tomah.
When I’m on the road, I cannot order anything but McDonalds’ coffee. There is no “McDonalds’ Blend”. I’m sure their brew varies from store to store. And of course, it’s prepared differently, unlike a venue like Starbucks, which measures each pot equally. I enjoy McDonalds’ coffee for its delicious ambiguity. It could be Sysco coffee, or Folgers, yet it always arrives in the same Styrofoam cup, and it always tastes the same. McDonalds' coffee is the pinnacle of efficiency. It's always available when I need it; just a little burnt, like it’s been sitting for at least an hour before reaching my cup holder.
Living in Seattle, where coffee bleeds from cracks in the concrete, and practically pours from the faucet (imagine!) I find it unnecessary to buy from McDonalds. I prefer to brew my own. There is, however, a store just blocks from my apartment. In the window is an advertisement, “Proudly serving Seattle’s Best Coffee”. Seattle’s Best is owned by Starbucks. That takes away all the fun. At a Starbucks, they’ll always ask you, room for cream?
Tomah, Wisconsin
McDonalds Coffee Lawsuit
Seattle's Best Coffee
