Okay kids, today’s weird experience stems from my daily trip to the Starbucks on the corner.

Almost every day, after driving 17 miles to work in a complete fog, I manage to convince myself that I need coffee at the end of my trip. Nay, not just coffee, but that I need Starbucks coffee. The amount of caffeine that they infuse into it is just about what my brain needs to get started in the morning. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself.

This morning, I decided to go in, rather than sit behind sixteen cars in the drive thru, and, sure enough, there was no line at the counter. It’s a crapshoot, I tell you. Some days, there will be a line around the building for the drive thru, and not a soul inside. Other days, the reverse is true. And when the Perfect Java Storm occurs, both lines are off the property. That’s the day I elect to just sleep in the cube and let the chips fall where they may.

At any rate, in an effort to keep my expensive habit under control, although it may hose the name of my blog, I decided to start bringing my own coffee cup in. Since I just get coffee anyway, it just speeds up the process and is an uber cheap fix. Today’s bill came to 43¢, which I’m sure was a gross undercharge, but last week this same new clerk charged me eight dollars for a coffee and scone, and I didn’t notice until I was back at work and it wasn’t worth a walk back. I figure it all evens out.

So, I approach the counter and plop my cool, albeit not necessarily unique, silver and orange travel mug on the counter, “coffee with a little room, please” being my regular request. The new girl fumbles with the ordering screen, first total coming up to $4.27, at which I squint and give her the “did you even hear yourself?” look, while barista Numero Dos grabs my coffee cup.

Here’s where it gets strange.

The barista, who I talk to almost on a daily basis, picks up my cup like it were a Faberge Egg, holds it up with both hands, and says “Oh my god, what a cool cup! I’ve never seen a silver one like this!” Keep in mind that this beat-up, stainless steel coffee mug is by no stretch a new development. Some are even for sale within eyesight of where I stand.

“And this handle…it so far way from the side, that’s so cool! You can hold it by the handle, or behind it, like this!” clutching the cup with both hands between the cup and handle. Truth be told, the cup wouldn’t fit into the cup holder in my old car, so I stretched it out. Still, nothing worth making a scene about.

“And, oh, I love the orange” GASP “this is a Starbucks cup?!?! How come I’ve never seen this before?”

By now, I’ve gotten my change from the newbie cashier, and am standing, dumbfounded, along with the other customers who have come in behind me, as the barista takes my cup over to the drive thru to show it to the kid running the window. He, understandably, couldn’t care less. Even the other workers, or “partners,” as I think they like to be called, are asking her what the problem is.

“Would you just give the guy his coffee?”

“You’re creeping us out – just get the coffee.”

“Are you on drugs?”

After filling it with joe, she gives back my cup like she were handing off the crown jewels, I take it and wander over to the fixins counter, put in my shot of Half & Half, and head for the door. And I swear, the whole time, she never took her eyes off the cup. Which really weirded me out.

Now that I’m back in the office, and had time to think about it, I think there are probably only a couple of explanations for what happened:

1. She was on drugs
2. She was messing with me, and all of her coworkers, perhaps trying to set up an insanity plea for an heretofore uncommitted crime
3. She had been hypnotized, and the silver cup was some sort of trigger that turned her into a tweaking lunatic

Am I missing any other possibilities? Because tomorrow, when I go back, I want to know if I should expect anything more from her, or if I should just bring the blue cup, or just stay in the car and avoid the crazy train altogether.