So I go to this amazing coffee house around the corner from my office called Cafe Grumpy. They brew the most amazing single-cup brews of organic, locally-farmed coffee you'll ever have. But more on that another time, if you're interested.
Every time someone gets a cup of coffee, before they completely fill the cup, they ask, "Room for Cream?" Which is odd, considering that a) this is Chelsea- The Gay Ghetto- where everyone is low-carbing and watching the fat content of everything... everyone wants things to be low-fat or non-fat, and also b) most people (when they ask) say, "Would you like room for MILK?"
So, I'm standing there, ordering a cup of Columbian coffee this morning. Before me, a very tall, very dark-skinned Black man ordered (ironically enough) a cup of Ethiopian coffee. He kept looking at me and I couldn't tell if he was cruising me or just being a creep. When the Barista (i.e., girl who works in a coffee shop) was getting ready to pour him his coffee she said, "...and will there be any room for cream in the Ethiopian?" To which the Black man, in a very thick African accent replied, "There is always room for cream in this Ethiopian." And wth that, he turned to me, winked and flashed a pearly white smile that shocked me like a strobe-light.
I threw-up a little in my mouth.