It's 8:45 am. I've forgotten to bring my packet of oatmeal to work (and besides, how many days in a row can a person eat oatmeal, even if it is of the maple and brown sugar variety?). A brisk walk up Wisconsin Avenue to the Milwaukee Bagel Company. There's a handlettered sign on the door, noting they're closed for the week. I kind of appreciate the fact that there's a bagel place in the middle of downtown that's small and funky enough that the owner can take off for a week, but for Pete's sake, I forgot my oatmeal this morning.
So I go next door. Okay, next door is a tanning salon. I go one more door down. Dunkin' Donuts. Get in touch with my inner New Englander. Shades of "Good Will Hunting" along the Milwaukee River.
Whatever. I order an iced French Vanilla coffee. Large. I'm given the option of cream and sugar. I opt for both. Extra sugar, actually. It comes back a lovely tan color.
The first sip comes through the straw accompanied by a healthy measure of sugar crystals. It takes just one more sip for me to figure it out. I'm drinking liquid donut.
This is the most perfect drink ever concocted.
Of course, I'm never allowed to drink it again.
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