“Elevated Coffee Co.” requires a waiver for entry. My husband rolls his eyes. “Their $450 reservation fee wasn’t enough?”
In signing this Liability Release I acknowledge:
I have decent eye-mouth coordination
I do not have a heart condition
I may suffer irreparable chemical eye injury, or other burns, from scalding, hovering coffee particles (Mistakes happen. We can’t guarantee accurate particle drift.)
Seems reasonable.
As we enter, a splash of Hazelnut Latte sears my eyebrow, floating past its intended customer. I glare at her. Did she lie on the waiver?
“Keep moving!” the hostess demands.
We find our barista, who oozes meditative rapture despite chanting unhinged gobbledygook.
“Oh shit.” He snaps to attention. “Welcome, I’m Greg! I was just offering up six months of my life to give this milk a legendary froth. Have a seat, you’re gonna love this.”
He resumes his incantation, and the milk beneath his hands hisses something unholy.
“Yes, that’s it!” Greg cries before clutching his chest and doubling over.
The manager rushes over to the milk pitcher. “Wow! So sorry about that … but holy cow, that’s one hell of a sacrificial froth.”
Another barista comes over, then another. “Damn,” somebody whispers, “look at that sheen.”
One turns to us. “This is going to be sensational. Would you still like it served floating?”
“Of course.” I want the full experience.
They begin to chant.
John Butterworth III is a pediatrician based in Boston. His work has appeared in Crepuscular Magazine and Unidentified Funny Objects 10. In his free time, he enjoys canoeing, trying to recreate Outback Steakhouse’s spicy ranch dressing, and reading with his wife and their two cats.