Monday, July 2, 2007

The Venti Name Game

















Whether or not you like Starbucks, you have to admit the word ‘ubiquitous’ seems to be the best adjective to describe the world’s greatest caffeine pusher. While the chick in front of me always orders a ‘venti latte with skim milk, shot of espresso, extra whipped cream and room for Splenda’ that requires seventeen button strikes by a distracted, clock-watching barista… I won’t go on about that. Rather, I’ll just continue to let my inner voice say ‘get a life and order a goddamn black coffee, Miss Hilton’, and let the eyes roll where they may.

So what this happens to do with running I’ll mention now. On a few overly-hot long weekend runs I’ve been known to give myself a Pavlovian treat afterwards. If you’ve ever done a mid-summer 20-miler, you know the need for a little coolness when you’re done, so sometimes I take a mortgage out on the house and buy a coffee frappachino. Mmm… liquid ice cream. Of course, yak blood would be tasty if you’re thirsty enough, but there’s something about a 180-calorie tall frappachino that is heavenly on a 90-plus degree day.

So when I finish my order, they ask me to give my name. Being a guarded New Yorker, the first response is ‘What’s it to ya?’, but I know the coffee drinks will be mixed up by even more distracted coffee elves behind the Hummer espresso machine, so I relent. I guess a take-a-number system is too complicated for these customers, and judging by the after-school special behind me, I’m not surprised. But I don’t want to give them my name, because what if some Lechter wannabe nearby ordering a Chianti Frappachino finds that out, then finds me on the internet, locates me on Google Maps, and then finds me running in the ‘10K for Polyps’, finally grabbing me as a snack at the 5 mile marker? It’s too late then to tell him my quads are not that tasty after all. All because I had to give Starbucks my name, or else no Frappachino.

So grudgingly, I give my name and… but wait! I don’t have to give my real name! As Peter Lorre used to say, ‘you eediot’ (Ren said that, too, for you younger folks) and I mentally slap my forehead. So it’s time to scramble and think of some alias that won’t cause suspicion, but also won’t get deleted from the short-term memory files before the damn frap is showing up on that little round counter at the end.

So here’s the ‘game’ part for you runners/triathletes/satan’s helpers. Instead of giving the first goofy name/phrase that pops into your head (my first few: General Peter Pace; Xaviera Hollander; Grünewald Altarpiece), give ‘em something running-related. Some ideas:

Marathon Diaper
General Marcus Gluteus Maximus
Mike Rofiber
Pasta Party!
Fu-King A. Tundreds
Brooks Adrenaline
Smokia Bitchez
Pearl Izumi
Dick Sportingoods
Gil Kayano
Nike Bightsabigwon
Point E. Sportsbraw
Fast Twitch!
...and of course, an old favorite… Heave Prefontaine.

So mix it up a little with your local barista after that long run, and yell out a name no one will forget. See if they even look up! You’ll have the joy of hearing your coffee alias spoken aloud as your drink is delivered in Starbucks location #38,016… you know, the one across from the Starbucks.

8 comments:

Angry Runner said...

It took a few minutes on Google to figure some of this stuff out (Xaviera Hollander...HA), but i would chalk this up as one of your best. Absolutely brilliant!!!

Don't forget about:
G.I. Distress
Got D. Runs

Damn, that's all I got. At least there was a theme to those two...

Bob Almighty said...

Good post. but you also forgot
Mya Calveshurt

No Wetsuit Girl said...

And here, like an idiot I've been telling them Jamie or Amy (depending on if I'm WITH someone with either of these names). See, the trick though is to find something that these kids with their brains toked to the other side of oblivion can spell. Like 10k (which the espresso elf will pronounce "LOK"), or 5k ("SK"), or 42.2k ("Azzz-inhale-zzzk"). Or just look on their name tag and read their own name back to them.

Mr. Satan A. Chilles said...

All suggestions are welcome! Thank you for the new ones, I'll have to keep a list for future reference. I happen to love goofy names like Hugo First and Eileen Over, which have a Simpsons-like simplicity about them. And reading a barista's nametag back to them is a great, great idea.

On a related issue, when I visit Paris Starbucks locations (about once or twice a year), they ask for your name for EVERYTHING, even a cup of water. In France, rules are rules, either they're strictly followed, or they're universally ignored. So I'm forced to give my name, phonetically, while le barista scrunches up his or her face trying to figure out what the tacky imperialist is trying to say. Drives me nuts, but I'm too happy to get a large black coffee (in a country not known for that) to complain.

Renee said...

I can't even hold a candle to these suggestions. But the first time they asked for my name at the Starbucks near school I was perplexed. Then they wrote it on the cup. What the hell? If I wanted a nametag, I would just wear a bib number from a good race.

Stephanie said...

Can't hold up with your creativity. You guys are pretty good. Thanks for the inspiration.

But that airport sign is pretty rediculous. Is that for real?

Mr. Satan A. Chilles said...

That sign is indeed real. I think I googled the phrase 'funny Starbucks' and after wading through the obligatory youtube videos, I found that image on some website. Almost hi-larious, except it's from some actual airport somewhare.

rustyboy said...

Inspiring post. I'm gonna get me a frappuchini-tucci-chino after my Saturday run for sure.

And it will ordered under the name "Ife Arted".