Central Waterfront, 8:00AM – Overcast.
Entry 75
Going backwards from Central to Lamma this morning, I order at the coffee bar in the pier 3 building.
One double espresso please, I say. Got it, the man behind the counter replies loudly, too loudly. Not even hungover and still it is too loud. It is just he and I in the shop. It is very quiet. The coffee machine is not even going yet. Got. The vowel there is very oval-shaped. He sounds like an Australian doing an impression of an American game-show host. Have I just walked in on something, I wonder.
Could I have it in a normal-sized cup and not the small espresso ones? I ask. He nods aggressively. Got it.
The coffee machine screeches to life. Eagle of energy. Condor of caffeine. I turn around to get a packet of sugar and a wooden stirrer. I turn back to find the man behind the counter filming the stream of espresso as it flows from the machine into my cup with his phone. What other morning smells did people live for before coffee was so integral to existence? The man notices me standing there, quickly puts his phone down but does not manage to stop his video in time, and gestures to the sugar packet I am holding. Uh, can I help you with that? he asks. Got it, I say.
I imagine he is filming a video to send to a girlfriend bored at work or to post on social media, to show people how he is starting his day today. Who can’t relate? And what sort of customer would I be if I asked someone else to stir the sugar in for me? Oh, but I know the answer to that. Stir it on my behalf, kind regards. Yes, everyone knows what the people who pass through pier 3 are like. Pier 3 people are demanding and take it upon themselves to uphold high standards which is precisely why they choose to live in a gated community with golf carts on an outlying island and this is also precisely why the coffee at pier 3 is better than the coffee at pier 4. I smile at the man behind the counter. He wishes me a good day before I have even finished stirring in my sugar. I leave him standing at attention at the till, eyes forward, ready for orders. At pier 4, I file in with the crowd headed to Lamma for a day’s work at the power station. Less than a minute to spare. Got it.