Then, I saw this sign.
I love the Pumpkin Spice Latte. Like, motherfucking love it. Yes, it tastes wonderful—that mixture of sweet pumpkin, cinnamon and coffee. But, really, that’s not where my obsession derives from. For me, the Pumpkin Spice Latte has come to symbolize the change in seasons, the coming of cool air, the falling of leaves and the arrival of big yellow pumpkins at the local farmer’s market. It’s the welcoming of my official favorite season. Fall is great. Beyond great. It’s happy and refreshing and cider and donuts and apple picking and …
I bought a large Pumpkin Spice Latte. Paid $5.10 for the honor. Took a sip. Another sip. Didn’t taste quite right. Actually, it tasted off. Wrong. Mixed up.
Then I figured out the reason. Today, in New York, it’s 84 degrees. Tomorrow it’s supposed to hit 94. We’re still, officially, in summer. Sure, a couple of leaves have fallen here and there. But, mostly, it’s as green as a mid-July day. This isn’t fall, and this isn’t Pumpkin Spice Latte season.
It’s just a drink, and a company milking $5.10 out of a fella longing for renewal.