I’m a person of simple pleasures. I like the smell of a new book, a nice walk on a brisk evening, the satisfying crunch of the leaves under my feet. I find that there is a pure kind of joy to be extracted from the smaller things in life, the little details we all-too-easily forget in the face of our day to day.
But there is one thing that I find I must treat myself to during that magical time of year when everything is just that extra pinch more magical. That’s right, I’m talking about eggnog.
I love eggnog. I love it to goopy, viscous pieces. If my best friend and a gallon of eggnog were hanging off of a cliff and I could easily pull both up, I would let go of my friend to ensure that the eggnog would be saved. Maybe it’s the nutmeg, or the cinnamon, or the way that it coats the glass after you’ve already finished the cup. Eggnog is my drink of choice from November to January, lactose intolerance be damned.
So imagine my delight when I saw the words “Eggnog Latte” appear on the newly Christmas-ized Starbucks menu.
I’m going to preface this by saying that I am not a huge fan of the pumpkin spice craze. I think it’s gotten out of hand. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice donuts, pumpkin spice cookies, scones, bread, teas – it’s too much pumpkin. Personally, I prefer my pumpkin cooked with pepper, garlic, and onion, served with roti on the side. And if we’re getting brutally honest here, I’m still not convinced that pumpkin’s reign over the humble and delicious sweet potato is not proof of white supremacy.
What I’m getting at is that you won’t catch me in Uggs and leggings waiting on a #PSL when October hits. Starbucks is essentially dead to me for ten out of the twelve months of the year (unless, of course, I have no cash. In which case, I am probably using convenience points at an on-campus Starbucks to fill my dark roast needs).
But much like The Office‘s Stanley Hudson on pretzel day, “an eggnog latte? Well, I like an eggnog latte.” I love eggnog so much, that I am willing to shell out $6 on a cup of coffee ($6!).
Or, at least I would be willing, if I could manage to get my hands on one.
It started (naturally) on the unveiling day, that wondrous morning when the holiday menu was put into effect. Eagerly, I stood in the obnoxiously-long line, without a care in the world, eggnog on my mind. These hopes were quickly (and apologetically) dashed by the employee behind the counter, who informed me that they didn’t have the eggnog yet. The same thing happened the next day, and the next, and the next. Sometimes the eggnog had not arrived. Other times, they had somehow run out (by 11AM at the latest, people). I would arrive at the Starbucks, expectations high, order in mind, wallet out, only to have my dreams squashed again and again and again.
These have been dark times. Not just this month, but 2016 as a whole. Let’s face it, this year was a shitshow right out the gate. Prince is dead, clowns are roaming the streets, and Taylor Swift is supposedly planning a hip-hop album. The year should have been cancelled months ago. But in the last few weeks with the disheartening news of the election, and the subsequent construction of what I’d like to refer to as the Administration from Hell, life has felt increasingly bleak. As though my queer, brown ass wasn’t already emotionally exhausted by internet trolls and half-baked political discourse, I have also yet to indulge in my heart’s one true desire. A Starbucks eggnog latte (this is Donald Trump’s America).
But I refuse to give up. Like the noble donkey, I too am a stubborn ass. So I will be there, standing in a too-long line for a too-expensive coffee. And I will order an eggnog latte, throwing a mild tantrum when I do not receive one, before conceding and ordering a peppermint mocha instead, in the hopes that someday, somehow, my dream will become a reality.