As I stood there, frozen in the dimly lit airport coffee shop, I watched her attempt to pour a packet of what looked like ketchup into my lukewarm coffee. Her eyes were set on the prize – a uniform, steaming cup of what she no doubt envisioned as 'Americano-flavoured syrupy goo'. I couldn't help but notice the quizzical look on her face as she raised an eyebrow at my confusion, expecting – I supposed – me to take a sip, possibly exclaim 'Wow, this is interesting.' But all I could manage was an exasperated 'Ma'am...' Her hand lingered mid-air, poised for the perfect dollop of mystery red goo.
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