The other month on my way into work for a shift starting in the late afternoon, I finished my coffee on the subway but still wanted more, since it had been a tough morning waking up.
So, I popped into this one (Mexican) restaurant that I've popped into before, to get my thermos filled with coffee.
They didn't have any on and I didn't want to be late for work, so I thanked the guy at the counter and said I didn't have time to wait for him to brew any like he had offered, and so I left and popped into another (Mexican) restaurant right next door, to see if they had any coffee that I could get for my thermos.
"Yes, but it's cold," the (Mexican) waiter was like, in the hearing of the (old) (Mexican) woman in the kitchen right by the take-out counter.
"That's fine," I was like.
Then, I mugged in Spanish, "El cafe esta frio, como el tiempo," and they both laughed.
"Your Spanish is good," the take-out guy was like.
"No," I was like, "But I practice."
When I got to work then and poured out some coffee, then, it turned out that the coffee wasn't only cold, it also tasted like cinnamon.
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