My first taste of Starbucks pee-et-el

In late 2015, I stayed with my sister Mia in New York for a few months to help her out with baby Carlie. Despite the long semi-vacation in the Broadway state, I wasn't really able to fit in much theater. So I was happy when Mia's friend from Chicago, Patt, was in town to watch one of her favorite musicals, multi-Tony-award-winning Fun Home, for one of its last shows with the original cast. My sister couldn't join us, what with motherhood and all, but relieved me of nanny duties and even treated me to a free ticket.

(L to R) Little old me; the amazing star of Fun Home, Beth Malone;
and the equally amazing Patt!

After watching and thoroughly enjoying Fun Home – which was, for something with "Fun" in the title, so unexpectedly heartbreaking and emotional – Patt asked me if I wanted to join the lottery for Hamilton. I had two questions: what was the lottery and what was Hamilton? What was HAMILTON?!? That was the same day I found out I was living under a rock. (I included the link for those who are still under it.)

As it turns out, theater ticket lottery is super fun. Every day, ultra-discounted seats are raffled to people who show up just before the show. Thrilling! Especially if you're on a budget and/or couldn't get seats for really popular plays (read: Hamilton) and just want to try your luck.

So Patt and I went to the theater venue and waited in line to drop our names into a bowl. There were 10 front-row seats up for grabs, so chances were slim that we were going to be picked out of the throng of people who were also there for the lottery (and, unlike me, actually knew about Hamilton and how impossible it was to buy tickets).

Oh and here's an important fact I need to stress about that fall day: It was effin' cold. If I remember correctly, it felt like about 5°C according to my weather app. And the wind was blowing because, apparently, the world hates me. Aaaand because my brain doesn't always work, I wasn't wearing a very thick jacket. Which was bad. Considering I'm a tropical girl who gets cold in Philippine malls.

We were outdoors for 2 hours.

Don't get me wrong – I don't regret a minute of that mini-adventure (OK, maybe I regret the choice of jacket). I loved the excitement just outside the theater, and I'm happy that Patt brought me to that lottery. But ...

Two. Hours.

In. The. Frigid. Wind. Of. Manhattan.

So after we found out we didn't get the tickets (aww), Patt asked if I wanted to get coffee because she knew I was freezing. There was a nearby Starbucks, and I got excited all over again because I'd never tried their pumpkin spice latte (PSL, if you want to be cool and acronym-y). And maybe more than that, my gloveless hands wanted to hold something warm.

Entering a building after being outdoors for 2 hours (have I mentioned we were outside for 2 hours?) was nothing short of glorious. I felt my body start to warm up and was happy to feel my forehead move again. Little did I know that some parts of my body had yet to thaw.

When the barista asked me what I wanted, here's what my frozen lips and tongue came up with, to my horror:

"A punggin spite latte."

"Excuse me?"

After a long inhale, I attempted again: "A pun ... kin ... spite ... latte."

I don't quite remember if Patt read my lips and helped me out, or if the barista saw my mouth desperately trying to function and guessed correctly that the cold foreigner wanted the most basic fall drink out there. Embarrassing? Maybe. Entertaining? Definitely.

And if you're curious, that latte, like that whole day, was za-may-zing.

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(I remembered to blog about this because of my first taste of Korean bingsu in a cold mall. My stiff tongue brought back all the PSL-after-lottery memories.)