A Year Without Caffeine

Summary

(This is the first of a two-part series. The second part can be found here.) I used to drink more caffeine than you do. Note the bared teeth, the delighted eyes, and the paw wrapped protectively wrapped around that frail cup. That is almost certainly true. From my college days (1985ff) through the end of 2011, my caffeine consumption was extravagant. Epic. Other people speak of the number of cups of coffee they drink per day; they are pikers. For me, the number was pots. Two, three, or four pots between grimly waking up and falling asleep. From the first thing in the morning through multiple after-dinner imbibings, the blessed black bean brew was my brain’s constant companion. Ah, Jolt. Along with coffee, soda was my parallel caffeine delivery system. I still recall the glorious days of Jolt Cola (more sugar, and twice the caffeine!), two-liters of which saw me through my sophomore and junior years. Coke was too basic for me, but doable when nothing else was available. Mello Yellow was fine, but hard to obtain. Although it had a splendidly lying name: lots of caffeine, so nothing mellow; green, not yellow color. Mountain Dew was my drink of choice, sweet and fiercely caffeinated. One year my housemates and I purchased enough Mountain Dew cans in bulk to make a six foot tall stack. It nearly replaced water for us. I was quaffing a can with breakfast, bottles during the day, cups in the evening, plus a final can in bed, just to relax. Gunpowder tea, preferably. Other caffeine mechanisms also supplied my needs. Chocolate, especially chocolate-covered espresso beans, helped. Black tea sometimes sufficed when I was among Brits, or just wanted the taste. Hot chocolate was fine in winter. But Turkish coffee, ah, that was the sublime caffeine delivery system. I fell in love with the potent stuff in Bosnia during the 1990s war, and sought it out ever afterwards. I visited an academic in Mostar whose house had taken a hit from a shell or missile. In its ruins, on a half-shatt...