Attack of the 7" Latte` or Your Christmas Cackle, a Day Early

Picture it: Downtown Brooklyn. a dark, cold and rainy Christmas Eve morning, sometime around 7:15.

a young(ish), handsome(ish) office worker has just come from Starbucks, where he had the nicest chat with the incredibly amiable and flirty little asian girl, behind the counter, and is walking back to his office; Venti-Skim-6 shot-Caramel Latte` in one hand and a Low-Fat Turkey Bacon and cheese breakfast sandwich in the other. He' s looking fierce(ish) in gorgeously ass-hugging jeans and a butch(ish) looking plaid shirt (today is a company approved dress down day) and ski jacket; he's got the Sal Sol Orchestra belting out a disco-christmas medley in his ears and is feeling pretty damn good about life.

Unexpectedy, he hits a patch of black ice and feels himself starting to slip. reflexively, he tightens his grip on his latte, thus causing the inch of foam on top to squirt out of the little sippy hole, all over his face. Suddenly the Sal Soul Orchestra is a bit too loud in his ears, he can't see out of his glasses and the fierce(ish) facade crumbles like a dried out scone. he laments not grabbing his customary handful of napkins and shuffles into the building. the people with whom he shares the elevator pretend not to notice the foam dripping off his ears and chin.

the only upside is that it was only the foam which squirted out and not the actual latte...which would've been a horrible waste of coffee (and seven dollars).