Oh Chai latte, we had so many happy times together; remember in MPLS when it was a crisp fall evening and I would sip you excitedly. Perhaps a mate was in tow; we would inhale your pumpkin spice goodness in between tobacco filled debates.
That, unfortunately, was ages ago.
Last night before work, I stopped by a chain coffee oasis for a chai and latte. The latter was for me; my coworker is a big fan of the chai. After making nice with the barista, I scooped up the hot bevvies with the thought of handing off the drink to my pal.
Sigh.
I thought we were friends chai; I thought we went waaaay back.
Little less than 2 minutes, chai is makin' itself at home, spillin' every which way without a care or concern. In complete disbelief, I made attempts to clean up the chai party that was happening in my car.
No avail.
My submissive nature made it easier for it; I stacked my latte on top and felt the wrath...
...allll down my arm.
Burning, awful pain; Chai latte, you are a jerk.
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