My Coffee Cup Runneth Over
This morning greatly exceeded my expectations. The day started, inauspiciously, with my getting out of bed. I showered, dressed, put on my Indescribable Hat (cf: Golux), and set off for work. Since it's Staff Meeting Day, I decided to stop at Toscanini's for a nice hot cup of coffee with a side of angst. As I waited in line, I was pleased to note that Mike was working. (Mike has long auburn dredlocks and makes the best coffee drinks of all the beautiful freaks at Tosc's. To say that I have a crush on him would be a major understatement.) When I stepped up to the counter, he cocked his head and squinted at me. "Oh," he said. "I didn't recognize you at first."
A digression seems necessary before I continue. Several years ago, the baristas at my local Starbucks knew me, as well as my drink. But in sharp contrast to the cracked-out artistes at Toscanini's, these Starbucks baristas were bitchy queens whose recognition, rather than a compliment, meant: "We know you, and we're just waiting for those Frappuccinos to show up on your ass." So I stopped going to Starbucks and started going to the campus coffee counter, where the middle-aged woman at the espresso machine was too exhausted and frazzled to recognize anyone. By this summer, however, the memory of the sinister Starbucks staff had faded, and I was ready to love again. At my coworkers' urging I ventured to Toscanini's, a locally owned shop where the only thing weirder than the staff is the selection of ice cream flavors, and after being reprimanded several times for ordering a "tall" instead of a "small," I began to feel comfortable again.
Like a moth to the flame, I return to my story. Mike didn't recognize me at first, almost certainly because of the Indescribable Hat. However, the fact that he didn't recognize me at first meant that he does recognize me sometimes. What joy! The day suddenly seemed brighter, the air fresher, the artwork on the walls weirder. I briefly considered engaging him in conversation apropos the Indescribable Hat, but stopped short. Someday, perhaps, Mike and I will exchange witty repartee about French Roast or even gossip maliciously about the Starbucks baristas, but for now, I mustn't rush things. Nor will I continue to wear my Indescribable Hat inside Toscanini's; for once, I don't mind being recognized. Also, said hat can only approach description as "dorky beyond any ordinary sense of the word."
A digression seems necessary before I continue. Several years ago, the baristas at my local Starbucks knew me, as well as my drink. But in sharp contrast to the cracked-out artistes at Toscanini's, these Starbucks baristas were bitchy queens whose recognition, rather than a compliment, meant: "We know you, and we're just waiting for those Frappuccinos to show up on your ass." So I stopped going to Starbucks and started going to the campus coffee counter, where the middle-aged woman at the espresso machine was too exhausted and frazzled to recognize anyone. By this summer, however, the memory of the sinister Starbucks staff had faded, and I was ready to love again. At my coworkers' urging I ventured to Toscanini's, a locally owned shop where the only thing weirder than the staff is the selection of ice cream flavors, and after being reprimanded several times for ordering a "tall" instead of a "small," I began to feel comfortable again.
Like a moth to the flame, I return to my story. Mike didn't recognize me at first, almost certainly because of the Indescribable Hat. However, the fact that he didn't recognize me at first meant that he does recognize me sometimes. What joy! The day suddenly seemed brighter, the air fresher, the artwork on the walls weirder. I briefly considered engaging him in conversation apropos the Indescribable Hat, but stopped short. Someday, perhaps, Mike and I will exchange witty repartee about French Roast or even gossip maliciously about the Starbucks baristas, but for now, I mustn't rush things. Nor will I continue to wear my Indescribable Hat inside Toscanini's; for once, I don't mind being recognized. Also, said hat can only approach description as "dorky beyond any ordinary sense of the word."
posted by A at 6:08 AM
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