N°84 speaks...(with PODCASTS!)

(Buenos Aires, Argentina)

My tiquecito says,

Nro. T. 00000084
Fecha 30/05/08 Hora 10:11:24

...probably somewhat of a collectible, along with my complimentary laminated bill of fare autographed by one of the honcho types that were standing around in a huddle near our table.

The boss types were in a good mood; crispy "coffee weather" had descended on the city about a day ago and some people were saying that the temp had actually hit 0° this morning! The suits were smackin' their chops over what would have been a lovely spring day in Chicago but was actually about the coldest day we will see all year! Gods being Gods, however, the corporate ones from Seattle got the sun turned up to 11. You couldn't have asked for a better opening day.

When I got there at 10am, Longhorn Dave was just sitting down with a big paper cup with the logo of with The Lady of the Lost Nipples. Brave Dave had been out late with a bunch of us the night before drinking liberally and we were both in the mood for some coffee while we awaited the arrival of photographer Cate who had also closed the joint with us last night.

I thought that the line was enormous (little did I know) and I needed caffeine so bad that I couldn't face the wait. I sat down next to Dave actually hoping that someone, anyone would just BRING ME SOME COFFEE. At the moment, I hadn't realized how porteño that was! I was simply in no mood to stand in line for anything. Then lo and beehold, a lovely woman came through with a tray of teensy paper cups of drip coffee! Ain't God good to the Yanq! It was tiny but caffeine based and hot. Just that little bit made my brain start to purr like my ol' Cadillac 501 after a long St. Paul warm-up.

The men in black were consulted by Dave (no doubt inspired by the sheer, quiet joy of my encounter with the lady with the tray ...and the blood now rushing from my eyeballs back to my cheeks) about the local predilection toward having coffee brought to you by bow-tied mozos with towel and tray. We were informed that there would be no bending of the "model" in Argentina; folks would either line-up or they wouldn't git any.

Feeling better, I looked at my watch and saw that it was exactly 10am... there was yet no Cate ...and I decided that I had the requisite blood pressure to brave the line. I entered the building.

Not really. The line extended a bit outside the door of what looked to be a dauntingly cavernous Starbucks jammed with humanity (actually, I think it's the old Häagen-Dazs next to the T.G.I. Friday's and not too terribly big.) I stood behind a group of 3 or 4 local high school girls who had had the "experience" abroad but were here for the opening day taste. I asked them if it was worth standing in such a line for coffee. They shrugged ...but after taking another look at the line, they appeared to wonder for a moment if this was really a well expended effort. But only for a moment ...the resemblance to a rock concert swelled over them again and they slipped back into the festival groove.

Along side of me, a middle aged man poked his head into the building to take a reading on how long this cola actually was. He blinked his eyes a bit, shook his head, then split... probably for more familiar territory. Dave had told me that it had taken him half an hour to get his jolt.

Behind me were two local graduate students that has also done the Starbucks thang overseas and seemed to be very quietly, seriously pleased to be taking their place deep into this first-world happening.

The green-aproned minions came out about then and started to pre-take our orders, leaving us with little brown tickets entitled "Quiero" with a description of our particular sought concoction. I decided to go with an old favorite that was very SB but had no resemblance to anything available here in this fine coffee town: a 4 shot grande vanilla latte: 16 ounces of steamed whole milk with 4 (instead of the usual 1) shots of espresso and some vanilla syrup. The order-taker nodded in approval at the unusual request and told me that he was going to try it himself sometime.

As I reached the counter to surrender my little order ticket, Dave sidled up to me and asked me to order a regular latte for him, as well. At that point all hell began to break loose.

Everyone was tremendously polite and showed quite a bit of grace under pressure ...however, the old saw of "no battle plan ever survives first contact with the enemy" started to achieve new currency. My little ticket was clearly written but just too weird to be executed correctly. The fact that I wanted to order an extra drink for Dave compounded the confusion. I moved to the end of the bar and waited in the classic position for my beverage.

I got a 4 shot latte with no vanilla ...oh, well ...but nothing for Dave who had duly laid some efectivo on me in plenty of time to conduct the transaction and was no doubt waiting for his fix. After an decent interval, I intoned "falta un latte" along with showing my reciept. You could see the cascade over what must have been 7 people trying to keep up.

Suddenly, a 3 shot vanilla latte appeared with the name "MIKE" written on the cup. That was OK, Dave could have the 4 shot plain and I would be happy with the 3 shot vanilla.

I was told that I couldn't have the 3 shot vanilla. Mine was coming.

Looking around for anyone named Mike that wanted a 3 shot vanilla ...I noticed nobody came forward.

Suddenly, a 1 shot vanilla was produced with my name and was handed to me.

That was all cool, but the closest thing that I wanted was sitting up on the tarmack ready for take-off and I had been told it wasn't mine. Screw it. I took it anyway.

Man! The barristas were really paying attention to the thermometers during the chaos, I suddenly noticed that I was navigating through the quilombo with 3 pints of the hottest coffee beverage in town. As I hit a major paro near the door which reduced me to hollering "¡CALIENTE!" in order to get a bunch of people that had resigned themselves to a half-hour of limbo to suddenly wake up and make a hole for me.

My fingers about to abandon ship at any second, I reached the table and landed all 3 safely. Caitlin walked up 2 seconds later and that third hot latte was stuffed into her mitt along with all the usual hearty greetings. I looked at my watch; it only took 20 minutes!

Ahh... The 3 of us settled into our seats in the tremendous sunshine and started to slurp. Cate was already digging through a trove of mysterious lenses for her camera. Dave was briefing her on the goings-on. And I settled down into the clickety-clack of the newly laid Seattle-Buenos Aires Caffeine Railway.

A strange and familiar sense of well-being seemed to sweep over me as the calming effects of hot espresso and milk and vanilla on a spectacular day in this spectacular town began to course through my veins. I admitted my, at least former, addiction to Dave.

All through this experience, we were regularly serenaded by a 4 man doo-wop band of African Americans that Dave kept suggesting should make me feel like I was right back in Chicago. I wasn't ready to go that far but I did have to concede that they did not look like South Americans. Their appearance was very del norte and the beard, knitcap, and old army field jacket of one of the singers really did give some snow-belt cred ...at least to a Texan. In fact, had they been warming their hands over the warmth of a 55 gallon barrel it would have lended the touch they needed. They sound much better on playback (mp3). As the tones of "Blue Moon" drifted through the ever extending crowd, I decided to peruse Mr. Schultz's menu with an eye toward prices.

With the dollar weakening a bit today, the prices on Starbucks Staples are as follows:
Our grande lattes: $11.25 x $0.32 = $3.63
An extra shot: $2.00 x $0.32 = $0.65
Some vanilla syrup $1.25 x $0.32 = $0.40
Some whipped cream $1.50 x $0.32 =$0.48
Drip coffee of the day $6.50 x $0.32 =$2.10
Un cafecito $5.50 x $0.32 = $1.78
Una medialuna $2.00 x $0.32 = $0.65
A brownie $9.00 x $0.32 = $2.90
A frappuccino $10.75 x $0.32 = $3.47
Top-priced drinks $16.00 x $0.32 = $5.16

To me, those are pretty much US prices (mp.3) even though the company's costs must be much lower here (...my call to my brother in Indianapolis to verify local prices has not yet been returned.)

Porteños, being great travelers, tended to agree (mp.3) that the cost seemed to be familiar in the OTHER currency.

As we sat watching the line grow longer and longer, Dave and I remarked as to how young the crowd was. I saw maybe one couple over 40 in the whole building. There was no one that old in the line.

We said our goodbyes a bit before noon, each of us having something to attend to. I had to admit to a queasy feeling. I probably hadn't had a grande latte in something like 5 years. That giant hot milk with sugary syrup went down good but didn't sit very well. Everybody's wondering about how the new resident of Häagen-Dazs will fare here.