Judging by the contents of my table at the coffee shop, I’ve been stood up. This is because there are two iced drinks at my table: an iced chai with soy milk (my all-time favorite this time of year)* and an iced latte (also with soy milk, although not nearly as good as the chai).
Why do I have two drinks? I wish I could say it was something dramatic—something like having been stood up—but the truth isn’t nearly as interesting. The barrista simply heard my order incorrectly and thought I’d asked for a soy latte instead of a chai latter with soy milk.
Usually I don’t make a fuss when this sort of thing happens; I’ve worked retail and I never, EVER want to be the sort of problem customer who I used to rant about when I worked at The Shop.
But it’s hot.
So hot that the Philly schools closed early two days in a row last week.
I want my iced drink.
And I want the iced drink I ordered.
So I ask, politely and apologetically, and I’m instantly granted a new drink. I’m also told to keep the old one, which is why I now look like a L-O-S-E-R who’s been stood up.
But enough about my drink. Let’s talk about the ol’ stand up, shall we?
As far as I can recall, I’ve only been stood up once. It was in high school, and I think it was more a case of mixed communication (coupled with my rather delusional notions of romance as a teenager) than anything else.
His name was Noé. At least that was the name he’d selected for himself upon arrival at Concordia Language Village Spanish Immersion Summer Camp (I picked “Otilia” for myself). He was assigned to Casa Argentina and I was in Casa Uruguay and whenever both of our cabins were on kitchen prep together, we totally hit it off. So much so that we exchanged emails at the end of the week and made tentative plans to meet up in New York sometime.
Mind you, they guy-to-girl ration at the Concordia Language Villages is way off. Despite my phenomenal Shakira impersonation during the camp-wide talent show, some hoochie mama from Casa Espana (the other all-girls cabin) kept “volunteering” to help with kitchen prep whenever Casa Argentina was on dinner detail.
Nevertheless, I hatched an ingenuous plan. I contrived to take a day trip to New York a few weeks later, took class at Broadway Dance Center (back in day when Broadway Dance Center still existed) and spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for Noé to turn up. Surprise, surprise, he never did.
I’ve since learned that although “sometime” might mean the Saturday after next to a teenage girl, it means something entirely different to a teenage boy. I never heard from him again.
In retrospect, I’ve been pretty lucky. Aside from a few crazy mix ups in grad school (most of which were due to my unfortunate taste in men), I’ve been fortunate. None of that sitting around by myself with two coffees and only one person to drink them—at least not until this little chai latte mix up, which, as you know, is an entirely different story.
*My actual all-time favorite this time of year is the Dark Berry Mocha Frappucino from Starbucks—a scrumptious combination of raspberries and dark chocolate— but they don’t make them in this country. Evidently, Starbucks doesn’t think the American palate is sophisticated enough to appreciate the Dark Berry Mocha Frappucino (which is why they’re only available in the UK) but I’d like to beg to differ. In fact, if you’re reading this and you have a direct line to the Starbucks CEO or whoever it is that decides which drinks to serve, please tell him/her that I would like to order a Dark Berry Mocha Frappucino please. Thank you.