We drove up to the Dunkin Donuts in Upper Darby this morning, desperately seeking doughnuts for the children and a coffee for me. I’m just not operating fully if I don’t have some caffeine in me at some point during the day. Outside the shop were several teenagers lounging and smoking, looking like they had just rolled out of bed, even though I’m sure school was already in session at that point. They had no intention of entering the place, instead preferring to use the grass out front as a hangout spot for delinquents.
A young girl was standing in the doorway.
“Excuse me,” I said to her as I opened the door wider to get past.
“You excused,” she responded, not moving one inch, but we somehow made it by her anyway.
Welcome to Philadelphia.
The floors were sticky, like they had just been mopped by by filthy water that only put more grit on the floor instead of taking it off. We stepped carefully while inside, as we made our way to the counter. Two ladies were working back there, doing a complicated dance that they should have made look simple but didn’t. One was manning the drive-thru, which I had noticed outside was five cars deep, and the other was in charge of helping customers in the actual store. There were two of us.
“I would like a coffee, please,” I told the lady when she stopped long enough to listen. “Cream and sugar.”
“What size you want?” she asked without looking at me.
“I guess I’ll take a large,” I said, having not thought it out beforehand, only knowing I needed caffeine.
“You want a medium?” she responded, as if I hadn’t said a thing.
“Suuuure. I’ll take a medium,” I told her, looking over at my wife to see if she had heard the exchange. She was rolling her eyes, and I realized I was too. I mean, seriously? The lady ended up making me a medium coffee, but at least it had cream and sugar in it. Continue reading “@ Dunkin Donuts”