Shopping Can be Such a Drag

Don't you hate it when you really need an outfit for something coming up and you cannot find anything you like? For me, I usually go to the mall with some style or vision in mind and then obsessively check every last store until I can find this look. This OCD trait of mine has landed me in the Limited Too thinking I could possibly squeeze into a kids XL and when that didn't pan out I was off to A Pea in the Pod thinking that I could make an XS work. What, I couldn't pass for 4 months pregnant? I know- I have serious issues.

This last trip to the mall was no different for me. I set out on a mission to find a new suit for a few interviews I had coming up the next day...yea no pressure. Ten stores later I had....nothing. I mean nothing. I tried on everything and I didn't like any of it. Of course I found a million casual outfits that I just 'had to have,' but no suit. I even considered getting a jacket from one store, pants from another and the top from a third store when I realized that I was turning into a crazed person. I decided to stop for a coffee, relax, and take the pressure off that I was putting on myself. The coffee place happened to be across from Banana Republic so I decided to stop in to see what goods I could find.

As I walked in I was greeted by a cheery, "Hello! Welcome to Banana Republic." Her voice sounded a bit like the Church Lady from Saturday Night Live. That’s unfortunate, I thought to myself. I politely glanced up, muttered a small hello back and put my head back down to look through the clothes. A half a second later my brain caught up with my eyes and made me take a second look at the sales girl. Hmm, I thought. She is pretty darn tall and her shoulders look a little broad in that jacket. She had on a ton of makeup but I shrugged it off and decided that this 50 something year old women was just trying to hold onto her youth and this complex she had must only be intensified by her job at Banana Republic. She was attractive and dressed very classy. Dark wash, boot cut jeans, button down collar shirt, fitted navy blue velvet jacket. I mean she looked great! I immediately wanted to find her outfit and buy it. Sale technique achieved.

As the clothes piled up on my arm, she came over to me, I mean, she towered over me and asked if I would like her to start a dressing room for me. I looked into her pretty blue eyes and at her bright red hair and with the most monotone sounding voice and straightest face I said "Thanks" But, if she could read my mind, this is what she would have heard...oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I was right, she is a man! A man, dressed as a woman. A drag queen! Wait-at Banana Republic? This just doesn't fit their image. I mean, I think it's pretty cool and hip but I can't picture Banana Republic agreeing. I quickly contemplated the stores in the mall that I felt this image did fit. Hot Topic. Betsy Johnson. Maybe Steve Madden? Spencers for sure! I couldn't help questioning if she was interviewed and hired as a man and then showed up to work one day as a women? Or did they hire her as a cross dresser? I wonder if Banana Republic hired her to avoid HIPA laws? No overtime when she splits her work week up half man and half woman. Ok, Sydney focus, don’t make her feel uncomfortable.

I followed her back to the fitting rooms. After she hung my clothes up she said, "If you need anything my name is Andy." Ok…Andy. I mean come on! Is there a more unisex name out there then Andy?

As I tried on what felt like seven hundred and fifty outfits, liking none of them mind you, I kept thinking about Andy. I mean I’m no prude. I happen to love drag queens. I’ve seen a drag Jennifer Lopez in South Beach that would blow your mind. This chick was smoking, definitely not from Jenny’s block. I even saw a drag Britney Spears who came out in a half piece green ensemble with a snake around her neck. Heck, my bachelorette party was at Lips in Ft. Lauderdale. A restaurant, club and nightly drag show. There was just something about walking into the conservative, traditional, conventional store of Banana Republic and seeing a drag queen working there that caught me off guard.

Oh and the suit? I never found it.

How Many Adjectives are in Your Coffee?

Walking into my favorite Starbucks to order my favorite drink was quite different today. The shopping plaza was packed due to last minute shoppers cramming in the last few minutes before Christmas Eve and that meant Starbucks was packed too. Normally this would not bother me too much but I know that my drink order is a bit, uh, well… high maintenance.

Let me back up, in Boca Raton, Florida EVERYONE is on some fad diet or some coffee enema diet so hearing long winded bizarre coffee names pour out of the baristas mouth as they yell out completed orders to come pick up doesn’t phase you. But in Virginia Beach it is a rare, rare sight. So as I wait for my drink order behind 10 patiently waiting other people and in front of about 6 new people who just walked in I hear drinks being called out left and right. Normal, Starbucks drinks. Grande coffee, tall latte, Venti Hot Chocolate. And then I hear mine. I brace myself, knowing what is coming. I know everyone is gonna think, “huh, what was that drink? So then the barista shouts it out above the large crowd….

"Tall, Decaf, Non-Fat, Soy, Sugar-free, No Whip, Cinnamon Dolce, Latte."

I quickly put my huge Jackie O sunglasses on, bowed my head and walked up to the counter, grabbed my coffee and ran out!

...I think it's time for a new favorite drink.

WA-Ahhhhhhh!

You know those snooty coffee drinkers? You know the kind. The ones that hold their Starbucks cup in their hand like they're showing it off like it's a new Gucci bag. They say things such as, "Not before my morning Starbucks." Like the word Starbucks has replaced the word coffee. Like saying Kleenex instead of tissue or Sharpie instead of marker. The ones that have masted a second language known as the Starbucks ordering guide. Ordering up grande, non-fat, no-whip, soy, sugar free french vanilla lattes with ease.

Well.....(long sigh)....I'm....(gulp) one of them! (Insert collective gasp!)

"I'm Sydney and I'm a coffee snob." This is where you reply in a non-judgemental, surround sound, "Hi Sydney."

As much as I hate to admit it, it is true. I look down on people who don't grind their coffee beans fresh every morning. I turn my nose up at people who don't own french presses. I get chills from people who re-heat 15 hour old coffee in the microwave. I laugh at people who think that a drink that comes out of a machine from 7-11 can be called a cappuccino.

Just as I've come to terms with this blatant and obvious discrimination and started to accept myself for who I am and accept my Vespa qualities, life throws me a major curve ball.

Enter the WAWA. Yes, WAWA.

It's not baby talk...it's a Gas Station. I discovered the WAWA while driving up to Virginia on Christmas Day. We were on hour 11 of our 14 hour drive. It's 25 degrees outside and rainy. The car is packed up from floor to ceiling, my left butt cheek went numb after hour 9, and Emma has left permanent indents on my thighs from sitting on me for so long. No food places are open since it's Christmas Day so I've been forced to eat only gas station food. Needless to say, I was worn down. Steve suggests stopping for coffee. I make a face, insinuating, "why bother, there won't be any Starbucks open on Christmas Day". We see a gas station and Steve says he is stopping. The gas station is named WAWA. We start to walk inside, making immature jokes about its name. As we walk through the sliding doors this unbelievable aroma hits our noses and immediately our moods are brighter. We follow the aroma through the gas station food mart all the way to the back where we see a plethora of hot, fresh coffee. All different types and flavors. There is even a milk bar with a huge selection of milk and creamer choices. At this point I'm fighting my inner Vespa demons. I desperately am in need of a pick me up and the smell of this coffee is so inviting. But how could gas station coffee, (I shuttered at the thought), ever be as good as Starbucks? I told myself it was Christmas Day and I had no other choice, I would have to rough if. I pull myself together and muster up my inner Survivor skills and pour myself a cup of 'joe.' As I shut my eyes and press the cup to my lips, expecting to taste a stale, bitter, tar like liquid. I take a sip and scream, O.......M........G!! This is AMAZING!! From the color to the clarity, the nutty smell, the meaty taste and smooth finish. It was perfection.

As I happily skip up to the gas station counter to pay for my heaven in a cup, the lady behind the counters says, "That will be $1.18 honey." Could this experience get any better? $1.18 for all this yummy goodness packed into this 16 oz cup of bliss. Such a bargain I think to myself comparing it to Starbucks prices. Suddenly I feel a twinge of guilt, like I've cheated on my first love. I then take another sip and put my abundance of remaining change into my pocket, (since there is no tip jar at the WAWA and no need to feel guilty for keeping my own change) and walk back out to the car to continue the last leg of our drive.

I still can't help but to feel a little sad that my rose colored, mermaid encrusted Starbucks siren glasses have been removed. Sorry Starbucks, please know this hurts me as much as it hurts you--you have to know that. I never thought I could feel this way about another coffee. And I swear I never meant for this to happen--it just happened. You were my first love and that’s something that can never be replaced. I’ll always think back on the times I’ve held you in my hand with fond memories.This is not goodbye forever, Starbucks. I will return. I hope you can wait for me. In the meantime--I promise to use protection (and by protection I mean a coffee sleeve). Please don’t hate me.