"I like my sugar with coffee and cream"

That's a line from the Beastie Boys' song, "Intergalactic," off of their album Hello Nasty. And that line reminds me of something that happened earlier today.

As I often do, I went out for a late morning walk across Arch Street and down through the concourse and food court of the Comcast Center, which connects underground to Suburban Station. And like many train stations, there are plenty of places to go for a quick meal or a snack. Or in my case, for my morning coffee.

So I get to Dunkin Donuts and step up to place my order with the young woman standing behind the register. I say, "medium coffee, with sugar, no cream." So she turns to an older man who is standing right, and I mean right, next to her, and she says, "medium coffee, with sugar, little cream." So I speak up and say, "No, no: no cream, just sugar." But behind the counter and out of my line of sight, the guy must've poured some cream into a cup, because the girl says to him, "no cream." So the guy tosses the cup in his hand and grabs a new, second cup and begins to pour out some coffee. But I say right then, jokingly, as if to reaffirm what the girl has said: "just sugar, no cream, no coffee." As soon as I say that, the guy begins to move as if he will pour out the contents of this second cup and then grab a third, new cup. But I say, "no, no, I'm just joking, I want coffee with my sugar." And both the girl and the guy look at me stone-faced, clearly not understanding what the heck I was talking about, probably being accustomed to customers either tired or rushed to catch a train, and not really used to any attempt at humor, especially the hard-to-detect, dry-and-sarcastic kind.

Needless to say, I got back to the office with my coffee. It had just the right amount of sugar. And no cream.