In our millennial age, perhaps no other activity has captured the weekend imagination of young adults more so than the “bar crawl.” Hardly a month goes by without one’s calendar getting pummeled with invites to various holiday binge-drinking events, where one may be expected to dress as anything from Santa Claus to an Irish stereotype, all the while walking from bar to bar in one of the city’s many nightlife districts. It’s all fun, but lately I’ve grown tired of the obnoxious, drunken shenanigans, the over-priced drinks, and their subsequent hangovers. But not wanting to rid my life of the practice entirely, I’ve begun looking for other applications of the “crawl.” So this past weekend I woke up early and began the city’s first inaugural Midtown Coffee Crawl. What followed was a morning of manic energy, fleeting mental clarity, and existential dread. I should at this point warn everyone to never do this. I mean bar crawls are dangerous and all, but at least you can sleep off a day of over-drinking.

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