I worked one summer at Philmont Boy Scout Ranch in NM, and lived in a tent city for the summer. One of the other workers (who we called &quot;coffee man&quot;) had an espresso machine in his tent. He provided me my first taste of this delicious addiction. I remember the night he pulled that little cup from underneath that spitting, steaming machine. Next thing I remember it was two days later, and I was lying under a pine tree wearing a donkey head from a halloween costume, war-paint on my face made from used coffee grounds, with a pounding headache.