Briefing for a Descent into Hell

Well, it is 3:38 in the morning and I am wide awake, which I suppose would be a good thing if I had to milk cows or undertake spy operations for CSIS or something. I don't know why this happened, the Jet lag. I mean, I did everything right! I stayed up until my bed time, I drank lots of fluids, but to no use. Alas. I have already watched infomercials about cellulite reduction pills (scary), a CD rom bible (double scary), as well as a program called "Its a New Day" (oh my God, where's the scotch) that consisted of Bible readings done by people with really white teeth. The glowing teeth of those who know they are truly saved. Ah, the glories of midnight North American TV. They'll fleece you and then prepare you for the coming of the Lord, all in about 37 minutes.

I am back in Vancouver. I hesitate to use the word home, because I do not feel that this is really my home. I have thought, and still think, that Vancouver is a little provincial outpost that happens to have really nice physical features. Like a beautiful woman with no brain. Like... like Charla. Who, might you ask, is Charla? Well, more about that later. But first I must tell you about my return trip.

I re-entered North America with a profound sense of loss. My final moments in the air where spent with my eyes squeezed shut, listening to the overture to the opera Hansel und Gretel (Wagner for kids) and clutching my plastic cup of cognac, trying to squeeze every last bit of European culture before I landed in Chicago. The music was sublime, the cognac smooth, the dulcet tones of the stewardess entreating us to travel with Lufthansa in perfectly modified "I-love-your-accent...where is it from?" English were soothing.
And then, THUD. America.

At Munich airport, I spent my last precious Euros on a chartreuse-green marzipan petit-four and double espresso, served on a silver tray. I sat in a quiet, subtly lit leather booth, looking at the snow, my mouth exploding with intense flavour. For about the same price in the bowels of Chicago-O'Hare, I bought a roastbeef sandwich the size of a dinner plate (with about as much flavour). They charged me extra for a slice of tomato, and I they asked for a tip, even though it was in a food court. So much for the land of the Free! I sat next to some middle aged pharmaceutical reps who, even though eating lunch with one another, constantly talked on their blackberries about "flooding the Chinese market", which to me sounded like the title of a Beijing opera. Gloom. On CNN, there was some story about an autistic kid who scored 2o points in 6 minutes at a basketball, and how it made George W Bush cry. Let me get this straight, Mr. President... You invaded Iraq, fucked it up so bad that there is now civil war. Citizens of your country die every day because of your idiotic foreign policy (not to mention the medieval state of your social programs), and THAT doesn't make you cry, but you cry about basketball? I mean, it warms the cockles of my heart when an autistic kid does good, but... Well, anything is possible. I mean, Hitler was a vegetarian. Something about the stench of death....I mean Auschwitz was fine, but bratwurst? That's murder.

Then I walked over to Starbucks, there being no double espresso on a silver tray available, and ordered a small coffee. A small coffee at starbucks is about 6 times the size of a large coffee in Europe. It also has 6 times less flavour. As I was drinking this swill, I thought of uses for Starbucks coffee, as it is clearly unfit for human consumption. Perhaps they could use it to antique marble busts.. you know like they did in the restoration of Windsor Castle after the fire. Or, perhaps they could send it to the Ukraine at Easter to dye eggs. I hear coffee enemas are popular too.

Of course, the latest thing that Starbucks that they're trying to push is "artistry". It is as if they are trying to convince us we are drinking a one-of-a-kind cup of gastrnomic patrimoine made with love and respect fot the ingredients (the recipe for which has been passed down through impoverished by cullinarily inspired grandmothers), when we are really drinking genetically modified crap with a shot of marketing and a dollop of globalization. As I paid for my coffee-enhanced-beverage-experience (the "small" coffee which would caffinate half of Innsbruck), I noticed a photo of a barista, earnestly drizzling chocolate on a latte, and there was this blurb about how he was "an artist" and how each latte to him was a work of art, and how he put his "artistry" in every cup. Artistry my ass! Please tell me what is esthetically or nutritionally sound about a "chocolate brownie frappucino" - 24 ounces of brownies, ice cream and espresso blended with ice and put in a cardboard cup emblazoned with a quote by Wynona Judd about her "journey" through life? (Incedentally, it has about 700 calories and 30 grams of fat, approximately the same as half a cup of butter. Oh, did I mention that obesity is a problem in the United States?) Artistry! If he is such an artist, why does Starbucks pay him 5 dollars an hour? Artistry! I have an idea. Why don't we put a skinny-half caf-no whip-grande-in-a-venti-cup latte in the Louvre right beside Delacroix's Liberty Leading the People and then ask bystanders which one they think is art, and which is garbage.

Which brings me to Charla.

As you can well imagne, my blood was boiling. Then I boarded my flight to Seattle and in the seat next to me was a very well turned out blonde woman who had no wrinkles, even when she smiled. She looked harmless enough, and we got to talking to one another, as people sometimes do when not plugged into their blackberries, ipods,cellphones or laptops. (or a combination of the above... or all of the above) . Her name was Charla. Innocently, I asked her what she did for a living. I was not prepared for the answer.

Charla, perky blonde friendly Charla, is a bonafide marketing rep who works at Starbucks HQ in Seattle. The Enemy. So close... I wanted to tell her how much I hated her company and all it stood for, but I held my tongue. I thought I could extract some choice information if I just pretended I was Barbara Frum (may her memory be for a blessing) on the Journal.. You know, poised, inquisitive, humane, great sweater. Here is a segment from our conversation:

"From the Forbidden City to Frobisher Bay, Starbucks is a company to be reckoned with. With its potent brew of coffee drinks and comeraderie, it offers the consumer something that is clearly irresistable. I am sitting here on United Airlines flight 3465 to Seattle with Charla, a marketing representitive with the company. Charla.... as someone on the inside, how do you account for Starbucks' powerful global presense?
"Um, like, well, I think people are REALLY passionate about, like, coffee education? You know?
Like, people go there to connect. We work ALL the time, and we need fuel. Coffee... its like.... like... a legal drug?"

-She was wildy gesticulating with manicured fingers, seemingly incapable of forming complete sentences. I couldn't decide whether it was enthusiasm, or stupidity. I decided on the latter.

"Indeed! I think what I want to know, indeed what I think all Canadians need to know, is if the ratification of Meech Lake accord will really bring an end to the constitutional crisis."

"huh"

Whoops... Okay, maybe a little bit less Barbara.

"Sorry. What I want to know is, what made you want to work for Starbucks?"

"Ohmigod. Well, each floor has, like 4 kitchens, and you can make yourself as many lattes as you want for free! I calculated it out, and it was like I gave myself a 2500 dollar raise!"

This woman spent 2500 a year on flavoured milk. Fuck

"I gained 10 pounds though. I am trying to lose it now. I drink lots of tea."

"It must be difficult being away from home so much. Do you travel for work a lot?"

"Tonnes. But you know, its great... Everywhere I go, there is like, a Starbucks, and it makes me feel at home. "

"Tell, me, what are the most exciting new markets that Starbucks is pursuing?"

"Ohmigod... India! There is so much going on. I mean, like a billion people! And they all drink milk... not like in China. But in China, Starbucks is, like HUGE. SO cool. And those asian babies are SO cute!"

My head was reeling, but there were only 20 minutes left in the flight so, I decided to stick it out, and be brave. I asked one more question. Before I could, Charla continued:

"You know, I think the best thing is that Starbucks is now supplying our troops in Iraq. I just feel great that we can give them something to make their lives a little easier"

You know, I never thought that I would long to be back in Germany, of all places, but at that moment, I really really did.