leché bandwagon these days. You can't turn a corner without some store or hole-in-the-wall is offering the best Cuban coffee.
I was seeking a desirable location before I had to head back to my training class at work thus it was I chose the place close to the waterfront. I am shy about making myself forward and being all "Hail fellow well met" with the harried waitstaff in eateries. I tip generously and am polite but I feel certain they have better things to do than engage in pointless conversation with me.
I got my coffee alright, but boy she took the biscuit for brusqueness, did the big blond Brünhilde who snapped "$1.75!" at me twice while I, spaced out, stared aimlessly at the multiplicity of signs in the Cuban Coffee Queen's window. I half hoped my lack of response was going to force her out of the booth and stomp all over me in stilettos but I meekly handed over cash including tip and she unhappily limited herself to glaring at me. I hope her day got better for her.
Mine did. I wandered the waterfront for a bit and admired the man and the statue, you decide which is which.
And I enjoyed the boats, the overcast sky and the smell of salt water. I dare say I enjoyed my lunch break more than any of my colleagues, but I could be wrong.
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