Thes-is my life (once more)
Dude, I am freaking pissed!!! I am trained to find out what’s wrong with a system, analyze and recommend steps for improvement. And this man, wants me to write about the best practices of this freaking government for my thesis!! If there is any good practice at all, the continued presence of Mrs. Arroyo in Malacanang invalidates it. Pare, this is my last subject and I am asked to come up with a spin!!!!!!! Is he kidding me?!!!!!!! I pause to breathe.
The newly-married Louis takes the opportunity to cut short my diatribe. Maarte ka pa rin talaga. Why don’t you just do what your prof wants? It’s not as if Jojo Binay will forever ban you from Makati if you write something good about the GMA administration.
I give him an eye dagger and declare cold war by refusing to share my pistachio sans rival with him. Then silence. Ten minutes passed. I twist the cap of my Vicks inhaler, hold the inhaler plug close to my nostril and inhale deeply. One nostril at a time as the instructions say.
Lou looks up from the obscure local car magazine he is reading and shakes his head. Hwut? I ask. You don’t even have colds. Why do you do that?!? I answer: Very hard to say, as my attention shifts from my 298 paper to the chai tea latte grande in front of me. How the hell will I finish this, I try to figure. Why do I even have this drink?
For reasons I have yet to find out, some baristas at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf always assume that when you order chai tea, it’s always chai tea latte. This is the second time that I ordered plain chai tea, and I got a chai tea latte. Not that there’s anything wrong with their latte, it’s just that, it’s not what I want. For some unknown reason too, each time they give me a version of my favorite drink, that is modified with shots of milk, non-fat I hope, I don’t bitch about it. I would just stand at the claim counter for a minute, then go back to my table and drown everything—my craving for plain chai tea, thoughts of strangling the freaking barista who gave me the wrong drink and got my attention by hollering, “One chai tea latte grande for Che!”— in my chai tea latte grande.
Of course, the name game is terrible in all these coffee shops. Back in the days when I still drank coffee, my name would vary from chie, to che, to gi, to achie, to agi. The farthest version I think was kai. When I looked at my cup, the barista wrote “chi” but he was trying to sound posh so he pronounced it with long “I”, thus calling me kai.
Ah, Starbucks’. I wonder how many stories have been exchanged between sips of frappuccino and mouthfuls of ensaymada? From old friends reuniting, from businessmen strategizing to beat the competition, from wannabes speaking in faulty English, from textmates eyeball-ing for the first time.
I have a truckload of Starbucks’ stories because it used to be the place I run to during praning moments, depressed moments, on-the-brink-of-everything moments and yes—on antok moments. The place, to me, has become a substitute for the shrink’s proverbial couch, for the boxing ring where I exchange verbal punches with a boyfriend who is on jerk-mode, for the library where I try to study and almost always find it impossible.
Hmmm…I wonder how my study buddy at Starbucks’ greenbelt 1 is doing? Before I moved out of Makati, we would study side by side on those high stools, our books occupying the entire long table. After a month of that, we started exchanging smiles and glances night after night. Then I moved to QC. How anti-climatic. We didn’t even exchange names. Pathetic I know. But my surest guess is that, he is an Atenean. Because each time I would be instantly attracted, as in, a mere swagger or a sentence, would readily catch my interest, the guy always turns out to be an Atenean. Always.
Even if I’ve shifted allegiance to Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, stories continue to pile up. This time, between sips of chai tea and bites of fat free blueberry muffin.
At times when I go there alone, for no other reason but to lounge, it becomes my very own glass encased universe where I watch the world go by.
Lou breaks my train of thought by suggesting topics for my final paper.
I look at my glass of chai tea latte grande. It’s still half full. I wonder if I should still finish it. It’s already cold eh. I start hating the barista for giving me the wrong drink. Should I intentionally spill what remains of my drink to the floor? Should I throw a tantrum? Should I demand a refund?
Probably not. I take two gulps of my drink. The bottom of the glass finally shows. I give to Louis what is left of my cake and ask him to bring me back to my dorm.
I will have to be back here. Alone. In an attempt to find something good about this government. Maybe next time, if I watch the world go by, very intently, I just might.
