In the same way that serious drug addicts will never forget their first hit, I will never forget my first cup of coffee. It represented, for 16 year-old me, the surest and easiest way to look, seem and act mature. Packaged right in the styrofoam cup in my hand was a quick and easy way to develop yellowed teeth, insomnia and so many other adult problems that I have since acquired. And if I were smart, I would have swatted that cup of black coffee out of my own hands and run for the hills with the fervor and determination of the von Trapp family at the end of The Sound of Music.