My morning tea just wasn’t enough to carry me aloft to my office. So I pulled over at the last moment, parked appropriately and stepped into Caribou. My timing was such that I caught the barrista dealer guy-behind-the-counter just as he was about to step away. Not sure where he was going, as he was alone back there. Anyway.
“Cup of the dark roast, grande medium please,” I say. “Room for cream?,” he asks. “Sure.”
As he tops off the cup, I look up to check the trivia question. Get it right and they knock a dime off your total. Which A-Team member was afraid of flying? I know this one.
“B. A. Barracus,” I answer as he rings me up. “What?” He looks at me quizzically, so I point up to the question. He thinks I’m pointing at him, so I point higher. “The question,” I explain.
He chuckles, then shakes his head. “Naw, man … that was Mister T.”
I blink. “Um … Mr. T was B. A.”
Reality dawns on him.
“Oh, wow … wow … how do you even remember that?”
I shrug, pay and take my coffee, wondering in the back of my mind just what Mr. T might say to this sadly uninformed young man.
Shoulda stayed in school, fool!
And eat ya greens!
Stay off drugs!
