Lisa Schumaier Staff Writer

The University of Arizona can do without the fancy new student union, all the dreadful art sculptures around campus and even the recorded band music that blasts at the noon hour. However, one thing a college cannot do without is coffee shops. I am surprised that college sports teams are not called the Mochas or Double Lattes yet. They could have chants like, "We have more froth." Anyway, my point is that students rely on coffee, more than anything else, to graduate from college.

I am not only referring to the caffeine aspect (even though coffee shops are our most cherished drug dealers), but what these places have come to symbolize. Students and residents of Tucson have instigated a "Breakfast Club" of coffee shops ÷ there is one for the jocks, the nerds, the borderline dropouts and the depressed students who still have their hospital bands on their wrists. And deciding to go to a coffee shop is more arduous than choosing which place has the best Frappuccinos. When deciding, you have to factor in which variety of freak you do not mind dealing with that day.

Epic Cafe ÷ That place on the corner of East University Boulevard and North Fourth Avenue is actually not a soup kitchen. The barefoot folks lined up outside are actually one of the most loyal of coffee shop crowds, although I only see them selling hemp necklaces or with stale baguettes in their hands, and never actually with a steaming cup. Remember to bring more money than needed, because you will be asked for change by at least five 17-year-olds with dreads and starved pit bulls. Recently, my beef with Epic has not been with its crowd, but its music. It used to be decent underground ÷ Mogwai and Pinback. Now it's '70s middle-aged sex music like Lionel Richie ÷ the type of music where the foremost instrument is clapping, like a sitcom with its applause-in-a-can effect. Try getting through a dense case study for sociology with someone overhead constantly ooh-ing and ahh-ing.

I must say that this coffee shop does have the nicest employees, and by that I mean they do not look at you like a conservative prick if you are not pierced, tattooed, or from Buffalo Exchange, which is the "real" emblematic countenance of liberalism.

Bentley's ÷ This is the country club of coffee houses, except for a few minor problems. Mostly grad students frequent this place. Medical students take up most of the tables, especially the ones with the computer jacks. Also, I see tons of older people who are not even affiliated with the university, which is really annoying because they bring in their book circles or cause-of-the-week clubs that you know are actually some self-help group. All you ever hear is them bitching about how their cats have fleas again and/or that they always switch shifts for a fellow employee but no one ever will return the favor for them. Bentley's is tolerable, but you need to bring headphones ÷ the gigantic ones that block any peripheral vision because, for the most part, the art on the wall sucks there too.

Safehouse ÷ Even though it has ski-lodge charm on the outside, inside it is reminiscent of a brothel. I cannot go into much detail about what the people that patronize this place actually look like, because I cannot see them through the burqa of cigarette smoke. This is probably a blessing, though. From what I can gather, they came up with this cool new concept: Black clothes signify torment. Perhaps a lot of recovering alcoholics hold their AA meetings here, but this is the only coffee shop from which you come home smelling like a bar. There is a reason why they allow smoking ÷ probably to mask the stench of the people that actually frequent the place. They have such bad coffee/nicotine halitosis that second-hand smoke inhalation is welcomed. There is also a reason why the place is not well-lit. The walls, stairs, railings and floors look ravished by termites on speed. But they are not the only medicated inhabitants. This place is by far frequented by the most Paxil pill-poppers out there. Geez ÷ if you want to hear some bad confessional poetry, these people are usually the dropouts from, say, art or creative writing. If you sit down with them, they will tell you all about the book they are supposedly writing.

Coffee shops have as much character these days as a three-legged dog with rabies. Personally, I think they are a pretentious display of humanity. People want an audience while they study, so they pick the coffee shop that romanticizes their collective identity. Stemming from the 1960s vision of the coffee house as a place to voice dissent, it is important to have places that encourage free expression. But then they might all end up like Hazy Dayz, with its physically uncomfortable poetry readings. Perhaps I will start getting my coffee from those drive-thru places, but then I won't see a tool making some spectacle. And every once in a while, it is a relief from the shit the curriculum insists you read nowadays.