Barista Blowout

It was a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon. Perfect conditions for racing and racing around was what we had in mind. The venue was some go-karting track near marathahalli, not very big in terms of area covered per se, but containing twists n turns designed to maximize the carpet area of the track in question. The tight hairpin bends, and the sweeping long turns put into ones mind familiar sights from Monaco, and if one dared to race at night under the lights I am told that it would distinctly give one the perception of racing under the many thousand Mega Watts of energy exuded at Singapore.

Oh alright! Alright! I’m just exaggerating it by a lot and then some; but isn’t it much better this way. Would you rather have me tell you that some cheap miserly bum who happened to own the land did not want to let even a small square inch of tarred (poorly) land unused, and so had the track going up and down again and again making it seem like an infinitely twisted track. Come to think of it is that why Monaco is so twisty? Well I think that I’ll leave that to your judgment, that anyway was not what I had intended to convey.

Moving on, we spent some time chasing each other around the corners, during which I had done a good dozen of inspirational laps, not counting the one lap in which my brakes decided to go for a brief holiday just around the end of the start-finish straight (the fastest part of the circuit) leaving me free to embrace the tire wall head on or front of the go-kart on. Apart from that, and the good ol’ Mr A. Crankenstien deciding that he did not like a particular corner and trying to forcefully reshape it by hammering straight into it at full speed; and the good ol’ jumpin jivin mallu deciding to use the race track as a skating rink instead; the rest of the time at the marathahalli/Monaco track was quite uneventful. FYI my friends were convinced that I was in an entirely different league, none of them drove with quite the same levels of elegance, flair, and sophistication as I did.

After all the hullabaloo, we decided to return to our roots, and keeping in tunes with doctrines we follow, we formed the holy circle and stood around it, mostly in revered silence, every now and again uttering the name of the holy enzo*.

We eventually broke the circle (after what seemed like eternity) when we were in dire need of nourishment. Our explorations into the lay of the land, led us to come across a nearby barista. The food there was quite scrumptious, and we all would agree heartily at any given time to have enjoyed the time spent there devouring the given matter.

However things took a turn for the worse when it came to quenching our thirst. The given fluids were by no means palatable (ok, fluids aren’t palatable, but if they were then the sample of fluids that we were given wouldn’t be so). For the first time in my life so far, I felt a distinct revulsion to my beloved cup of tea. Bitterness seemed to be the theme of the tea party. Nobody had managed to procure a drink that did not disgust. The jumpin jivin mallu got what looked like goo!

Quite a few of us had left our drinks unfinished. This seemed to tickle the latent talents of potion making amongst one of us. And before we knew it, an evil mixture of all the un-finishable drinks was prepared. The maker of the devilish potion threw a challenge – he was prepared to pay for anybody who could reduce by intake the standing height of the concoction.

Now it’s quite a funny thing, I don’t know if any of you have ever felt this before, but when there’s a cocktail of funny drinks, there comes over one the inexplicable urge to sample it. The aforementioned urge consumed me, and I found my goofy self succumbing to voluntary intake of experimental solutions. Have you ever had the feeling of expecting to drink something extremely disastrous, and finding it to actually turn out to be quite good. Well if you were there then you would’ve because that’s what happened. The drink that was made by mixing all the drinks that individually no one liked, turned out to be quite enjoyable. After passing the drink off as the best one on the table, the container was passed around for everyone to get a bit of the juice. It resulted in the evil potion maker having to pay for his doings.

So after having bored you all with this lackadaisical tale for a while, I come to the most important part viz the conclusion. This conclusion I would like to point out is by common consensus.

If you are hungry for a light snack, and are looking for a place to eat, then the barista coffee shops would suit you well, but if it’s a nice drink that you are looking for, then you are better off going to a café coffee day, or going to a barista, ordering a bunch of undrinkable drinks, and mixing them up randomly to get something drinkable.


Also thinking of this experience symbolically, it actually teaches us a great lesson, a bunch of individually unlikable flavors together formed something quite likable. Is that a moral on teamwork? Or is that just me transforming into a weird monk looking for morals in stupid comatose small occurrences. Again that would be left to your judgement.






* Unless you are one of the few that live by the dogmas of the circle, you won’t understand, don’t even try to.

** In case you found this article mind numbingly dull, and of no use whatsoever, then kindly let me know, because there’s no way I can do anything about it.