I enjoy coffee. I dare say that if coffee were a person, I would marry it. For now, though, we must ignore all the futuristic implications of creating persons from inanimate, edible objects, so suffice it to say that I love coffee to an inordinate degree.

I don’t foster an obsession for just the beverage, though. Part of my love affair with coffee stems from my overall experience when stepping into a coffeehouse. What better way to assuage your daily stresses than to bombard your senses with the sights, sounds and smells of coffee creation? It gives me shivers just thinking about my dazed approach to the counter, and meeting the gaze of that holy individual who I am privileged to call my barista. Our eyes will lock, and for a moment, we will know the depths of each other’s souls. From his or her heavenly and probably pierced lips will flow a question, bathing my ears in sound waves akin to those generated by an angelic choir: “What can I get for you today?” I can see from the light in the barista’s keenly perceptive orbs that I am being assessed as I impart my plea. Though I may say I want a hazelnut latte, our bond relates the specifications of my drink – skim milk, no extra sugar and certainly no artificial sweetener. No lover can satisfy these needs, nor friend comprehend them.

Consider the difference upon entering a Starbucks. The atmosphere is prepackaged and oppressive. Generic easy listening, “adult alternative” plays just a little too loudly overhead. Everyone sits glued to PCs (we all know that a good coffeehouse should be populated by Mac users) with disposable cups before them, adorned with the image of the green mermaid (ack! Reduce, reuse and recycle, guys). The counter strikes fear in the hearts of coffee lovers everywhere. The blessed relationship between the coffee drinker and the barista is obliterated by the regulation of the ordering process. Automated factory workers stand at attention, attired in cash-green aprons, and create the impression of an assembly line awaiting programming. As you order, the cashier-droid marks your coffee selection brusquely upon your cup, and all your drink specifications are openly demanded.

That sacred, intimate ritual of physically realized desires becomes forcibly public – mortification and modesty assault you, as if your deepest, darkest animal needs have been broadcast to the world. Worst of all, your drink comes complete with so much sugar and needless calories that it constitutes a meal. You run the risk of becoming diabetic just thinking about a large – excuse me, “Venti” – Frappuccino.

Aside from my general discomfort when faced with the Starbucks experience, its atmosphere of consumerism incites my open disgust. Everything within a Starbucks is up for sale: music, coffee, mugs, makers, even suggested reading materials. You too can completely reconstruct the uncomfortable atmosphere of corporate coffee in your own home!

Generally, the practices of the corporate “coffeehouse” send a message of “get in, get your coffee, and get out.” Otherwise, why would all the drinks be served in to-go cups? Starbucks exists to cater to tired zombies who find it normal and maybe even healthy to consume several cups of caffeine, not coffee, a day to bring them to a suitable level of performance.

It offers consumers an expensive and chic alternative to soda, as if becoming a coffee drinker bridges the gap between the roles of high school teen and college student. Starbucks does not encourage relaxation or conversation, the two activities integral to the atmosphere of a coffeehouse.

Coffee, like fine wine, is a beverage worthy of respect and appreciation. To treat it as some miracle draught of wakefulness represents the first step down a long, painful road called “coffee abuse.” Savoring its charms in an environment that promotes actual studying, down time away from home, and socialization with companions makes them that much sweeter.

Next time you feel the need for coffee indulgence, treat yourself not just to a caffeine buzz, but to the power of the experience as a whole. Remember: the journey of coffee self-discovery begins with a single step.

Chelsea is a junior in English and music and is searching for the perfect Irish cream toddy.