The Not-So-Little Drummer boy is working at a new Starbucks in an adjacent city this summer. Perhaps in response, he has taken to viewing our Saturday morning family outings to the neighborhood Starbucks as an opportunity to exercise some misplaced creativity.
It started last week when he told a (fortunately experienced) barista to simply surprise him: "Make me something new and delicious." The barista rose to the challenge, and produced a drink that tasted much better than the NSLDB's usual white chocolate mocha. This morning, he upped the ante, requesting a drink with three different flavored syrups (and specifying the number of shots of each) as well as five shots of espresso. And chocolate whipped cream, which I didn't even know they carried. He can't recall exactly what he ordered now, which is a shame because we all tasted it and agreed it tasted great.
He has a cunning plan for next week. Flushed with success, and inspired by the music of John Cage (who apparently composed some pieces of music using coin flips to determine the notes), he wants to bring a spinner into the Starbucks, and base the elements of his drink order on what shows up when he spins, as well as the barista's birth-month.
I have explained how obnoxious this all is for the baristas and the other patrons in the cafe. He doesn't care. He believes it will bring some excitement and interest into people's lives. It certainly will to his. He claims that there will be no downside, that at Starbucks the customer is always right.
The Resident Shrink was no help here -- she was laughing, and suggested a flash mob. He's considering it.
I am still not quite sure whether this is simply an elaborate story told to freak me out. With anybody else, I would strongly suspect so, but then other people are not as ... unique ... as my eldest son.
He once told me he viewed his entire life as performance art. I didn't dream that he meant that literally.