What you do is, you have a cold, rainy day. Then you put on a grey overcoat and trudge along on a gritty city sidewalk with motorcars hissing past you spewing up storm drainage. You shudder and pull up your collar around your reddening face, feeling a sudden kinship with the Londoners. A wicked black sports car bears down on the boulevard, and beyond the tinted windowpanes you can barely spot one of your Arab friends downing a swallow of coffee in a to-go cup.
That's when your whole day changes. Across the street your dim reflection wavers in the cafe window. A quick evaluation of the traffic flow and you're dodging through the asphalt jungle, bound for that jingling door.
And when you step into the smell of cappuccino and espresso, you know what you want. A chai latte. So you get one. Shot of vanilla. Cream on the top. Only one thing left to do now.
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