at artiste this evening, two guys walked in to join a girl sitting at a booth adjacent to mine.  they sat down for a minute before deciding to order, at which point i overheard their conversation:

guy 1:  so, what do you want?
guy 2:  i don’t know, tea?
guy 1:  tea.  just tea?  what kind of tea?  hot?  cold?
guy 2:  um, peach tea.  hot.
guy 1:  peach tea.  do you want, like, some cinnamon in it or something?
guy 2:  heh, no.  plain, thanks.

guy 1 walked off, snickering.  obviously, he was new to actual coffeehouses but not new to their stereotypes.  i took my friend shane to artiste a few years ago, and when we walked up to order, he started making the jokes.  “i’ll have some maxwell house,” he said to the guy behind the counter.  “oh, wait, do you have any folgers?”  another friend, bryan, who had ordered a cappuccino sight unseen, complained that his drink was too foamy.  it’s sort of funny, i guess, but not really.  when guy 1 returned with guy 2’s tea, he handed him some packets and said, “yo, and here’s some sugar in the raw, whatever that is.”

the book i am reading now for my london subway class is called 253, and you can tell it was written in 1996, because its supplementary (sort of) website is so mid-nineties.  “The map is not readable by browsers which do not support tables.”  har har.