Yes, even the lowliest of us caffeine court jesters can order the beleaguered baristas around like so many humble serfs. Like feudal lords of old, we demand milk in varying percentages of fat content or, not milk at all, but soy substitutes just because our princess-and-the-pea-like constitutions are so delicate we cannot properly digest what Bessie has to offer.
We require specific pumps of sweetness in our beverages - I once waited in line behind a particularly persnickety princess who wanted 2 and ONE HALF pumps of caramel. Really? How exactly does the java peasant procure ONE HALF of a pump? Percolate on that for a while. (Saw that coming, did you?)
And the sizes...in Italian of course, we would not be so coarse as to order a Biggie or Large or Big Gulp - our sophisticated selves order Vente because we are way too civilized to admit we are sucking down the equivalent of a thermos of joe, a quart of milk and about a cup of sugar.
Don't forget the proper temperature - yes, if this beverage is not exactly 178 degrees, well then, then...off with her head!
I, too, have succumbed and been...(wait for it) drunk (okay that counts) with power. Once, as I exited from a ubiquitous cappuccino castle, where I had also exited my coffee comfort zone and tried some new mocha-frappe-thingy. (Oh yeah, I know that's not the technical name for it and as of yet I do not have my coffee ordering certification credentials, but they served me anyway - so there!)
Anyway, I was thinking that I wasn't too crazy about the mocha - just a little too mocha-y or frothy or rich or whatever, when I realized there are many people on this very planet who would not have minded mocha in any form at all, but here I was, slurping on like some caffeinated Marie Antoinette with my 6 foot tall creamy creation.
Whoa...the Highness of Hypocrisy, right? Well, ye oppressive lords and ladies, get over yourselves, stop being part of this mindless, selfish, aristocratic-wannabe, picayune consumer population. It's just coffee. Wake up and smell it.
