Navy Coffee

They say that in the Navy, the coffee's mighty fine;
It looks like muddy water, and tastes like turpentine.

I have perhaps mentioned my argument with Navy coffee.

I would like to state that, if you've never had coffee, you will still have an issue with Navy coffee. But perhaps not as much. You will just assume that you're not supposed to drink the stuff, and it is in fact a military-issue cleaning product.

I've worked for two competing coffee shops. One makes better coffee than the other, because they fresh-roast the beans, and the other does more creative stuff with their espresso. Either one's good. And I wasn't much of a coffee-person before Boot Camp.

Note: Everyone forms some kind of addiction to deal with the stress here. If not here, then definitely in the Fleet. This is supposed to be the easy time, before things get really intense. My addiction is to the endorphins off of a workout - that's how I deal. And somehow, it got programmed into my brain that if I'm going to work out, I need coffee first.

My first experience with Navy coffee, I concluded that it was made by drying out manure, pulverising the result into a fine powder, and bubbling used engine oil through the powder. The best thing that you can say about Navy coffee is that it will definitely wake you up.

Some coffee wakes you up gently, like someone coming in your room who's already been up for a few hours, and sits on the side of your bed. Sip. "Morning, honey. Time for school." Backrubbies. Mmmm, okay. We'll get up.

Then there's coffee that wakes you up happily. Comes bouncing in, throws open the curtains, letting the sunlight flood in. "G'morning!! Come on, get up, it's time to play! Let's go, let's go, let's go!" You're annoyed, but a little entertained at the same time.

Navy coffee has nothing to do with this. Oh, no. Navy coffee is when mama turns into mama bear, and she is mad. You're blissfully sleeping, unaware that you've forgotten some chore, and this coffee silently comes in, grabs you by the short hairs at the back of the neck, hauls you down the stairs by the same shorts despite your painful yelps and protests, and throws you shivering into the barn or kitchen where work evidently needs to be done. It's not a chore you would normally mind, but your brain is rather confused about what just happened, only certain that whatever it was, you didn't like it. That's Navy coffee.

I use it to make instant oatmeal.