In Praise of Luxury
Most of us have our little luxuries. A beer on the weekend. A particular color of nail polish. An occasional movie. I’m pretty frugal. I have to be, living paycheck to paycheck. I don’t have a car. I don’t drink, or go out to movies, or buy junk food. I own one pair of shoes, which I replace every five years or so. But I like my coffee, and every couple of weeks, I indulge in the real thing — a fancy flavored latte from a coffee shop. I like to tell myself it’s not really splurging if I replace my breakfast with it, but I know better.
The fact is, occasionally having something a little special breaks up the monotony of day to day survival. It’s why we celebrate birthdays and holidays. The Roman empire understood this, and wisely chose to layer Christian significance over local holidays in the lands they conquered, rather than interfere with them.
I was leaving a grocery store on my way to work, coffee in hand, when a scruffy, grey-bearded homeless man accosted me, charging across the parking lot, jabbing a grimy forefinger aggressively toward my coffee.
“What did you pay for that coffee?” he demanded. “I’ll bet you just spent five bucks on that coffee!” He intended to shame me and he succeeded. There aren’t a lot of homeless people in my town, and the town steps up to make sure they get food and warm clothing. Still, the price of that coffee was probably an entire day’s food budget for him. Except…
“Actually,” I said, “It was free today, because I had enough points.”
The man dropped his aggressive stance and laughed. “Well, ma’am, I guess I just never had enough points in this life.”
I laughed too. “In that case, I’d say you need someone to buy you a cup of coffee.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee,” he said.
I fished in my pockets, finding nothing but a five dollar bill. I held it out to him. He gave me a shocked stare. “No ma’am, I couldn’t accept that! Just a dollar for a cup of coffee will do it.”
I shook my head. “No it won’t.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Why not?”
“Because,” I said, holding up my steaming coffee cup, “This here is a limited edition, grande Chestnut Praline latte, and you’re not going to get it for a dollar.”
A wide grin spread across his face. Accustomed as he was to counting every penny, saving every scrap, the thought of doing something so obviously crazy as spending five dollars on a cup of coffee had never occurred to him. He wasn’t starving. He was dressed warmly, but his eyes lit up at the thought of throwing caution to the wind and doing something fun.
“You know what?” he said. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna walk right up to that counter and order… What did you call that?”
“A grande Chestnut Praline latte.”
“Yep. I’m gonna order me a grande Chestnut Praline latte.”
With that, he gave me a firm nod, and set off with a purposeful stride toward the coffee counter, a man on a mission.
I was still chuckling about the interaction as I completed my walk to work but when I replayed it in my mind later, I heard the part he didn’t say, and it put everything in a different light. “I’m going to walk right up to that counter,” he’d said.
It wasn’t about the coffee. He’d have been better off with breakfast. But just once, he wanted to know what it felt like to walk up to that counter, cash and confidence in hand, and order a drink with a fancy name, just for fun. To get a literal taste of life on the other side of tracks. How long had it been since anyone had told him he deserved a little luxury? How long had it been since he’d let himself indulge in something that wasn’t about just getting through the day?
That man didn’t need a five-dollar cup of coffee any more than I did. But, perhaps, in another way, he needed it every bit as much as I did, just to rise above the day to day struggle for existence for a few moments. There’s a lot to be said for frugality. I believe there’s also something to be said for coloring outside the lines once in a while, just for fun.
