I tried to explain the bliss of Diner Coffee to Eric last weekend. I didn't do a very good job of it. But now, I'm in a position to make my position more clear.
(Today, see, began at 5 AM, when I woke up with a need to use the bathroom and couldn't get back to sleep, despite an hour of fitfull attempts. Got up at 6, talked to Caz on IM while getting ready to go, and headed down to Canter's, one of the classic original Jewish delis in Los Angeles, for PANCAKES and the sweet bliss of a cuppa.)
Here is why diner coffee is the best coffee you'll ever drink. It's the first thing your waitress offers you, and it comes in a thick ceramic mug, heavily glazed, that would knock a linebacker unconscious if hurled properly. It also comes with a vast amount of little plastic individual servings of creamer (or, potentially, a small metal cup of cream, small beads of perspiration dotting the cool steel) and one of those pourable sugar canisters.
You add the cream immediately, hoping to rush along the coffee cool-down process. Then, you pour sugar into the mix until wafts of cream float up from the bottom of the cup, lightening the hue of the coffee to a pale beige. Take a few big sips as soon as it's cool enough to drink. Did you add too much sugar or cream? No worries -- the waitress will be by to top you off in two minutes, diluting the sweet creaminess down to acceptable levels. Adjust, remix, enjoy. Enjoy for hours, if you have the time. Sit, read your paper, drink your diner coffee, and enjoy the sweet mellow buzz that comes with heavy, sweet caffeine.