The coffee’s Labyrinth

Before starting the proper narration, I must remember the important role played by the girl who, in spite of herself, often goes around with me and is therefore forced to suffer the changes in my digestive apparatus. It often happens to abandon her to her fate for a good half hour while I am looking for a public bathroom or, as in this story, a bar toilet. The solitary coffees she has drunk are no longer counted. This fate has touched her recently when she was strolling amiably through the streets of the city, when at a certain point I told her: “Hey, I really have to go to the bathroom” – her answer full of logic from a regular stomach: “Yes, can’t you wait when we are home? – “Oh no, I really can’t, and look there, there’s a nice roastery, at least you’ll have good coffee!”.

Yes, I know, it really tastes like a joke

But I was telling the truth! Right in front of us, there was a beautiful roastery, one of that kind that gives the idea of being open since before the two world wars, with dusty sacks full of coffee beans, the low lights and decades-old instruments. We enter, the owner looks at us with the hope that we would have bought at least an entire coffee crop, but his hopes are immediately dashed. Unwillingly, my girlfriend asks for the usual coffee and I ask the other younger salesman where the bathroom is and he replies: “Yes, I’ll get the keys, just a moment!”. I still didn’t know what I was getting into. In fact, the boy puts on his coat, – strange – I think, and leaves the shop. “Follow me!” “follow me??” – I think to myself – “Will you take me to the bathroom of another bar?” Anyway I follow him, in a strange silence we turn the corner of the shop and go to another street till the door of an anonymous condominium. The guy, probably noticing the big question mark that had appeared on my face, tells me that the bathroom is in there. Meh, in there where? On the mezzanines? In fact we go in and take the stairs that go towards the cellars and cross them, the bartender opens a door and we find ourselves in the garages, we pass those and enter another door where we find other cellars. All in strict silence, there was a moment when I thought the guy wanted to steal my kidneys.

But no, he stops, looks for a key in the bunch and opens the last cellar in the row. And what’s in there? But of course, a magnificent shitter of an indefinable colour that took up the whole space of the micro cellar. The guy notices my perplexity but probably can’t reveal what dark secrets are hidden behind the bathroom of a roastery that is miles away, so he just says: “When you come back on, lock up all the doors”. What do you mean “when you come back up”? Are you leaving me alone? The wolves will kill me for sure! Moreover, how do I find my way in that labyrinth? But the young man is already far away and I go into the bathroom (the urgency had almost passed so I was incredulous) and I come out a few minutes later. Inside that shithole, they had even managed to fit a mini-sink. I take the road back to the roastery and somehow I manage to get back to the shop, my partner is visibly upset, “how long did it take? Now,  how do you explain that it’s the road’s fault and not my stomach’s? You simply can’t.