Coffeehouse Chronicles …Who Did It Better?

Whatcha brewin’ crew?

Let me start off this morning with a confession. I drink flavored coffee. I'm not much of a vanilla guy; I prefer hazelnut. Okay, there. I said it. It’s out there. I have admitted it. Now, with that being said, I have a major issue with the HB’s attempt to get me to drink mushroom coffee. Really? Mushroom coffee? I mean, I'm all for trying new things, but this is pushing it, HB. I might as well start brewing my coffee with a twig and a leaf. 

Look, I have a ritual. I get up, start the brew, and then sit down to write the paper. This morning, I got up and noticed that we were running a bit low on Your Hero’s hazelnut blend, so I started searching for what was next. I check the usual spot, my coffee basket, and, “Oh look, the HB hooked me up with some new stuff. Brown bag. Who makes this? Looks like coffee. Oh wait…this smells a little sus …I better read what this stuff —- WHAT THE WHAT?!?!” MUSHROOM COFFEE?! OH, HECK NAW!!! She knows better! I don’t even like mushrooms in my food! I will have to have a chat with the HB about this. 

Unacceptable.

I guess it’s gonna be unflavored java this morning. I thought we lived in a civilized world where hazelnut coffee was readily available. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to settle for the taste of disappointment.

Anyway, we’re in Eugene, peeps. Actually, I think we’re bouncing back and forth between Goshen, Springfield, and the U of O. 

Oh, hold up. Before I get started, I have a question for you Chroniclers. Everywhere we go, people smile at us and say, “Good morning” and “Enjoy your visit.” How do you think they know that a group of 18 people of color walking down Main Street are from out of town? 

Asking for a friend. 

Anyway, we were out at breakfast, and the Doc wanted to know who did it better. The topic of conversation at the breakfast table hinged around the mayhem that occurred to the McRib-mobile. Mr. and Mrs. McRib were sitting across from the HB and me. The Doc was there, and he wanted to know what exactly Cmdr McCroc and I did upon our arrival at the scene of the vehicle carnage. 

If you remember, the Commander and I were first on the scene, assessed the situation, determined what was needed, and then requested the necessary equipment and the location to which said supplies and services were to be delivered. We checked to see if we could be of any further service, determined that no more could be done at the scene by us, and then RTB’d (returned to base). This was a correct and proper triage. Upon our return, we were surprised to learn that no one was there. All the fellas had left. 

Now, Cmdr Mcroc and I were no longer there, but apparently, the team, led by the Doc, according to him, rolled to the scene and fixed everything. 

“What did you do?” Looking at me, he queried. 

Then, the Doc had the nerve to look to Mrs. McRib and ask which contingent she felt offered them more comfort and support in their time of need.

Why is everything a competition with him?

—-

The group split up after breakfast. Some had to work, and some just wanted to chill. Most of the crew headed to the track to watch the events. Da Coach and Mrs. Coach were in their element. They know everyone, and everyone knows them. The Professor attempted to follow them onto the track but was accosted by two guys and one woman, all about seventeen years old and each wearing black cargo pants and a hi-vis yellow t-shirt that read “EVENT STAFF.”

“SIR! YOU CAN’T BE DOWN HERE!”

“But I’m with them,” the Professor protested, pointing at Da Coaches.

“Oh? Puh-leeze,” lisped the one seventeen-year-old through his orthodontia, “Da Coach would not be seen with the likes of you.”

Mrs. Coach looked back at the Professor forlornly, mouthed the word “sorry,” and ran to catch up with Da Coach, who was at the time high-fiving and glad-handing the fellas from the four by one hundred.

The Professor had to do the walk of shame to his seat in row ZZ. It’s a good thing he borrowed the HB’s opera glasses.  

After Da Coach and Mrs. Coach had finished taking selfies with the track stars, it was time for dinner. Oh, not just any dinner, either. Yesterday was their wedding anniversary! We celebrated at Tavern on Main, where, once again, people smiled and commented on how we should enjoy ourselves. 

Weird.

Mrs. Coach wanted me to put out the disclaimer at this time, letting everyone know there is no truth to the rumor that their actual anniversary was three months ago. She went on to say that this was in no way just an opportunity for them to get a free meal from the camping crew. Anyone who says so is simply not telling the truth.

Happy anniversary!

Drink ‘em if you got ‘em!

#ocffeehousechronicles