Over the course of the past quite a few months I’ve always been in the entirely non negotiable habit of making at least one trip each day to the Coffee Nut Cafe on Park Avenue in Long Beach in order to get my requisite medium sized cup of coffee. By now I’ve become so predictable a fixture there that the ladies who work there recognize me quite well. One Saturday morning a few months ago, I was subjected to quite a bitter disappointment. On that day the unthinkable happened: the coffee shop ran out of coffee. “Sir,” the owner exclaimed in exasperation, “the trucks that are supposed to bring us our supplies regularly broke down last night and haven’t yet been fixed.” She, the other ladies working there, all the other regulars and I stared at each other in total disbelief and frustration. I didn’t know what to do. After having walked a half mile, with my bad feet, all the way over to Park Avenue for nothing, especially disappointed due to my having been begrudged the single most unavoidably mandatory ritual of my day, all I could do was to sulk in self pity on my way out the door. They still had lots of gelato and pastries available so I could easily gotten something just for the sake of being able to make the trip somewhat worthwhile. It wouldn’t have been the same though. Because of my always having somewhat prone toward being a sore loser, unfortunately, I spent the rest of the day obsessing over it. I found myself snapping at anyone who presumed to mispronounce a syllable within earshot of me. Having never before been subjected to anything so frustrating I even got a migraine that lasted until Sunday morning. Somehow, since then, I’ve managed to overcome my bitter resentment of such a horrible thing. Every once in a while, though, I remind the ladies that if they ever even so much as let something like that happen even one more time, I shall start going regularly to Gentle Brew.