
It was mostly just a comical experience. Since the game was sold out, nobody could feasibly get up to go to the vendors in the aisles; instead, everything was passed along, bucket-brigade style, to make the transaction. The funny thing about coffee was the never-ending stream of accessories. Here's the list of what each of us passed along, in separate handfuls, over the course of what felt like the whole top of the sixth inning:
1. First cup of coffee.
2. Second cup of coffee.
3. Seriously, a third cup of coffee?
4. Creamer packets...
5. Sugar packets...
6. Stirrers, oh yeah.
7. Lids!
8. Money...
9. ...and change.
Something feels ridiculous about this. There's been plenty of snickering commentary about the state of our I'll-have-it-my-way coffee shops, but I tend to want to let people have their choice - unless and until I'm the one delivering all of those options. This is especially true at a baseball game, where I have some vague notion of a one-size-fits-all Americana that is rudely ruptured by such customized coffee.
Let us all watch the game - and just order a beer!
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