This is a view of the van that was in front of me this afternoon as I was picking up my 3PM coffee at the Donut Delight drive-thru line in Stamford, CT.  This picture was actually taken after I left the drive-thru, but that’s irrelevant to this story.  I’ll get to the van in a minute.

I need my 3PM coffee if there’s any hope of me making it through the work day.  I’m sure I’ve developed an addiction, but I need a strong black coffee, medium, sometime between 2:30 and 3:30 just so I don’t pass out from reading emails, making calls, and surfing the internet for the best ironic T-shirts that I don’t have the balls to buy anymore.  The more obscure the reference on the shirt, the more difficult it is for me to pass up.  You find me a shirt that somehow coyly references The Venture Brothers (the best show on Adult Swim), The Beatles Abbey Road album, the state of North Dakota, and aardvarks, just go ahead and buy me a large.

I pulled into the Donut Delight for my caffeine fix.  The Donut Delight is to Dunkin Donuts the same way that McDowell’s was to McDonalds…except it’s real.  You remember McDowell’s, right?  Where McDonald’s had the Big Mac, McDowell’s had the Big Mick.  Where McDonald’s used 2 all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame-seed bun, McDowell’s buns didn’t have seeds.  You get the idea.

Donut Delight is not exactly known for their speedy drive-thru service.  In fact, they’re slow as hell.  I have to scream into the microphone for them to hear my order, their reply comes through the speaker in a garbled mess, and I optimistically assume they’ve gotten the order right.  The speaker is worse than the one from my Fisher Price “My First Record Player” I had back in the late 1970s that I played my Star Wars read-along records on.  I used to love that thing.  I knew it was time to turn the page when R2-D2 beeped.  That record player is probably slowly decomposing in some dump in Long Island, but the speaker still probably sounds better than this piece of shit.

The Donut Delight does have some kick-ass coffee, though.  It’s nice and strong, just the way I like it.  I don’t drink coffee for the taste, I drink it to get zooted for an hour or two.  I want the buzz.  I want to sweat.  Why drink decaf?  It’s like drinking non-alcoholic beer, playing cards without any money at stake, or watching an R-rated movie on network TV.  What’s the point?

I drove to the window after placing my order and got behind the pictured van.  Here’s where this mini-trip took a turn for the obscure.  I could see a couple guys in the van moving around.  The cashier opened the window to hand them a box of donuts and I could see the driver tell her to wait a second.  He grabbed the box, gave it to his buddies, and then proceeded to hand garbage to the cashier.  I don’t mind if it’s a wrapper or two, maybe an empty coffee cup, but these guys started handing her a dozen or so plastic drink cups.  The cashier threw them away, but they weren’t done.  Next came the beer bottles.  18 beer bottles.  I know it was 18 beer bottles because the driver handed over 6 handfuls of 3 bottles a piece.  6 X 3 = 18.  I could always count in Beer, where everything is divisible by 6.

I want to know what the fuck these guys were doing pounding beers in what is clearly a work vehicle judging by all the ladders.  And I want to know where I can apply for this job.  What goes good with 18 beers, you ask?  Ladders, and lots of them.  The taller the ladder, the better.  I’ve worked on a ladder or two in my short stint as a house painter with my uncle and cousins during college.  Ladders are a lot of fun, but I’ve got to believe they’re infinitely more enjoyable with a six-pack in me.

I couldn’t not say a word about my man on the right.  That bright yellow safety vest is preventing me from getting a good look at his half-shirt, fanny pack, and short shorts, but it isn’t stopping me from admiring his white socks and Capezios.  Attaboy.