Monday, March 8, 2010

In the Old Country

The noble savage sits in Dusseldorf. His wings are still dripping from the oceantide. In careful English and what's hopefully interpretable as a "I'm-really-sorry-I-don't-speak-German" sheepish expression, he asks: "May I please have a small cup of Costa Rican?"

The Germans all around sip at their espresso with 1000 years of experience behind each flavor sensation. The noble savage feels himself blushing, worries about every pose, every sip, every touch of the saucer. The weight of a 10-gallon hat on his head...

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