The grocery store down the street from me wears a little shopping center like a hat, trimmed with the standard accessories. There’s a place to get a cup of coffee, a place to get an ice cream cone, a place to get a slice of pizza, and also places to get gas for your car, water for your kitchen, and haircuts for your curls. The standards.
Last night, as I parked my car outside the grocery store, the glowing sign of the obligatory Starbucks caught my eye. I shouldered my cloth grocery bags and picked up the 5-gallon water jug I was planning on filling, and decided to make a quick stop in for a cup of chai before I ran the rest of my errands.
While waiting in line, the woman behind me tugged my shirt sleeve, and I swear on my best pink sneakers she was serious when she gestured at my 5-gallon jug and asked me with a perplexed look on her face, “Do they have better water here than at the water store across the way?”
Um, no... But a venti mocha just isn’t enough for me, so I bring my own cup.