Flurry

It's like I always say. In New York it always snows in February.

And here we are. It's February. And it's snuh-HO-WING today. Seriously. I come inside and have a thick dusting on my shoulders. And I've been moisturizing my scalp so I KNOW it ain't me.

So, to WARD off the chill, I stepped into a Morebucks.

The barista asked what I wanted. A whole milk latte. I paid. I walked to the waiting area.

The baristo (the male coffee maker. Is that what they're called?) paid no attention to me. In fact, at one point he ran away from his post. I looked, and lo and behold, there was a drink on the counter. It looked a little big, but then it's not called a tall for nothing.

And since the baristo left...I guess he was done making my drink. Must be mine.

I grabbed it and took a sip.

Nope. That wasn't my whole milk latte. THAT was a grande chai latte.

Holy crap. What do I do? No one was hovering near the coffee stand. Maybe whoever ordered it forgot to get it and left the Morebucks? I mean, I can't just say, "I'm sorry. I thought this drink was mine. Go make another one. SLAVE!"

Desperate, I turn away so no one sees me with the grande chai. I kept sipping on it. I don't know why. I guess I was hoping it would somehow change from a cinnamonny Christmas treat into its much blander older brother.

Suddenly I hear the baristo shout, "tall latte!"

CRAP! What do I do?!

I can't do anything! I'd look like a total fool going up to the counter saying "Oops! I thought this was a tall! And now I see that it's a grande! And I've taken about ten sips and it STILL tastes like a chai latte! Sorry, but you'll have to make another one for whoever it was who ordered your stupid high calorie milk tea! SLAVE!"

So...

I took the latte.

And I slipped the chai back on the counter.

Oh Gawd. I put the partially consumed chai latte with a lid glopped all over in Fork slobber back on the counter.

Hey! Maybe no one would notice that it's already been sipped on!

Wait! No! I can't do that! That's disgusting! It's unchristian! Would *I* want someone doing that to MY frothy beverage?

I feebly tried to make eye contact with the baristo. If he said, "yes?" I'd be *forced* to explain myself. Forced to say, "I'm so sorry. I'm a moron. And for some reason I can't just say, 'Whoops! My bad! Make this man another drink. SLAVE!'"

But he never looked at me.

Suddenly, some guy starts walking up to the coffee stand.

Holy crap. He's coming for the chai latte. How do I tell this man I drank part of his drink and risk pissing him off because I made him late for his big business meeting because of my buffoonery?

Solution: I DON'T.

I grabbed both drinks and fled the Morebucks without looking back. In my mind's ear I heard the baristo shouting, "Stop! Thief!" But it was too late. The Latte Bandit had struck, leaving only tears and steamed milk in his wake.

There was nothing I could do, y'all. I was backed into a corner. All I could do was survive.

Next time it snows I'm getting chili.

If God doesn't kill me first.

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