KP vs Three Lufthansa Cappuccino Machines

Final days of Cascade report to come.  But first:

It’s 2:26 am Kennett time.  11:26 am in Munich.  I began my day at 5:00 am Kennett time (pacific coast), meaning I’ve been out and about for 21 and a half hours.  Is that right?  I may need another coffee to wrap my head around all this arithmetic.  I’m sitting across from three cappuccino machines in the Lufthansa terminal, gate G-04.  So far I’ve only had a cappuccino and a latte macchiato.  I’m not sure what the difference is, but I’m already typing faster right now than when I started four minutes ago.  In fact, I’ve written the last five lines in just 72 seconds.  I’m gonna go get another coffee and see how fast I can get my words per minute up to.  Hold on a second…

Okay, that’s better.  I chose an espresso dropped in a hot chocolate.  Just barely fits in the cup.  I stopped by a few food stations earlier to gaze at the sausages, pastries, and hot sandwiches behind what I assumed was bulletproof glass.  Forgoing the tasty morsels due to their high cost, I wandered my way over here to this coffee station, where I’ve built up a good sweat from all the hot liquid and/or caffeine that I’ve consumed.  My legs are sticking to the reclining, pleather chair I’m lounging in.  I was wearing long pants a minute ago but I had to strip down to my short shorts and DeFeet compression socks.  Sorry Joe, I know it’s not pro.  Welp, that settles it.  The guy at a table near by must want a competition because he’s had at least four coffees now.  My latest drink is getting a bit low.  Maybe time for a refill.

Holy shit I’m starting to wake up.  I got a Morrochino or something.  It tastes like a mocha.  I might just chug this one since I’m a coffee behind this bald German guy.  Done.  That’s number four for me.  It’s 2:38 am Kennett time now.  Four coffees in 12 minutes.  That’s one coffee every three minutes.  I have another hour and 12 minutes before I have to board my plane (72 minutes in total), leaving me time to drink another 24 coffees.

People are staring at my short shorts.  Here in Germany?  I thought they might fit in.  Maybe it’s my jittering legs, twitching like the sweating flank of a horse, trying to rid its backside of pesky flies on a hot summer day.

Oh man, I need another coffee.  Things are starting to come into focus finally.  The letters on my screen are HUGE!!

Now we’re getting serious.  Café au latte plus a shot of espresso.  This one counts as two coffees.  I just glanced at a TV screen and it was advertising something called Kuntstragen.  To be precise, the commercial showed the square root of “Kunstragen” to the second power (with the math signs and all).  Wouldn’t this just be one Kuntstragen?  Maybe that’s the point of the commercial, to draw the viewer’s attention towards the problematic redundancy of cluttered German life.  A society that prides itself on efficiency and order still picks at the nagging flaws of unproductive distractions.  The evidence is laid out here right in front of me: three identical cappuccino machines sitting next to each other when one would get the job done.  Although, when it comes to cappuccino machines, one can never be too careful.  Three is probably the safest bet, since the other two could break down at any time, their buttons subject to catastrophic damage caused by their jacked up users jamming the espresso button harder and harder and harder as their impatiens for their fifth, sixth, and seventh refills steadily grows.  I’m starting to feel ill now.  More coffee will make it pass.

Like any typical travel story, mine has gone astray from an early start.  I should be in bed in Zingem by now, since my flight to Brussels was supposed to drop me off at 8:30 this morning.  But I missed my first connection in Toronto, had to take a plane to Munich instead of Brussels, and then I missed my connection in Munich that was going to take me to Brussels at 11:00.  Air Canada has really been testing me today with all these missed connections and whatnot.  Not to worry though, since I have all the time in the world.  Because I have THREE GOD DAMN CAPPUCCINO MACHINES RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND I HAVE NO SHAME IN GETTING A SEVENTH COFFEE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!! ARGHHHHHHH!!!!! I’M UNSTOPABLE! NOT EVEN GOD CAN FINGER ME NOW!! I’M SO CLENCHED A FLEA COULDN’T CRAWL UP IN THERE!!!! BRING IT ON LUFTHANSA COFFEE MACHINES!! MAKE MY FUCKING DAY YOU BEAUTIFUL KUNTSTRAGEN TIN BOXES, ROCKETED DOWN TO EARTH BY THE VERY ANGELS THEMSELVES! I’LL DRINK YOU DRY BITCHES!!!

I just got the “weiner malang,” which tastes suspiciously like the Morrochino.  It’s amazing how quickly I lost count.  Oh my god.  I think I can read German.  Oh wait, no that sign is in English.  I still think I can read German though.  I’m watching a commercial and I’m pretty sure it said something about a minister in Poland having an affair with a platypus, maybe in reference to an Australian??—where duckbilled platypuses? platypi? platypises? live.

I stole a pillow and a blanket from my last plane flight in case I’m on the floor at the Zingem house like when I got there last year.  I watched three movies in a row.  I can’t remember what they were.  I asked for a second muffin for breakfast, and I’m now regretting not getting a third.  I don’t think I’ll be in the Zingem house until another four or five hours.  Once my plane picks me up and lands in Brussels I still have to take a train, then build my bike on the sidewalk, ditch one of my bags in a cornfield like last year because I can’t ride with all my bags, ride to the house, drop off a bag, then ride back to the cornfield for my other bag and bike bag.  It’s a lot to think about for a person that’s only had eight or nine coffees.  Maybe a person who’s had at least 12 coffees would be better prepared to tackle this kind of situation?  I’m drenched in sweat, yet chilled.

Whoa.  I was just re-reading the first couple paragraphs because I’m thinking of wrapping this post up right now, and I realized that I typed the number 72 twice.  First in regards to 72 seconds (in the first paragraph), then for 72 minutes in the third paragraph.  I didn’t do this on purpose; it’s pure coincidence.  Check it out up there!  That’s crazy.

More coffee now.  Bye.

Written later:

*I listened to a remix of Bad Romance for the next hour straight.  Loud.

*I misread Kuntstragen.  The actual word is Kunstragen.  I looked it up and it doesn’t exist.  The closest thing I could find is Kunstrasen, which is an artificial turf.

* My total coffee count was one dozen. Or more.

* I got to the Zingem apartment at 6:30pm, or 9:30am Kennett time.  I fell asleep on the train and almost missed my stop, having crashed pretty hard from my caffeine buz.  I would have missed it entirely if it weren’t for a friendly passenger who overheard me talking to the train engineer earlier about what stop I needed to get off on.  My total travel time was 28 hours without any real sleep, and with only four hours of sleep the night I left.  Kind of like when Gabe had to travel from Coeur d’Alene to New York (it’s a long journey between those two places).

 

 

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