How You Like Your Coffee???

This week's Metropolitan Diary was particularly hilarious.

Dear Diary:

After the New York City Ballet’s opening-night performance, the promenade lobby at the New York State Theater was beautifully set with decorated tables for the gala dinner. Exquisitely dressed patrons and socialites were making their entrances, and lovely music set the scene. The tables were adorned with sprays of delicate flowers, and waiters stood at attention to serve the guests.

We ordinary audience members from the upper rings passed by this lush setting, and a mother with two 8- or 9-year-old girls was overheard to say, emphatically, “There are a lot of speeches, very little eating, mediocre food, and WE'RE NOT INVITED."

Dear Diary:

Leaving a delightful concert at Carnegie Hall recently, I walked to the 57th Street station to catch the F train back to Queens. In the station, I first heard and then saw a man playing Vivaldi on his violin. A group of young people were gathered around the older man, quietly listening to the lilting sounds.

When the piece was finished, one young man admiringly said, “Yo, you play that violin like Tupac raps!”

Dear Diary:

The other morning there is the usual purposeful chaos at the corner store’s deli counter on 14th Street.

The counterman shouts, “What you want?” and people shout back, “Black with a buttered roll,” “Two, light and sweet,” and so forth.

A young guy in construction-worker clothes steps up to the counter. The counterman shouts, “What you want?”

Young guy answers in a thick Eastern European accent, “I - want - coffee.”

Counterman shouts, “How you like your coffee?” The young guy looks puzzled.

Counterman shouts louder, “HOW YOU LIKE YOUR COFFEE?” The young guy doesn’t understand, so the counterman really shouts, “HOW - YOU - LIKE - YOUR - COFFEE?”

The young guy now understands and is pleased to answer with complete confidence:

“I like my coffee ... very much!”