Espresso shouldn't be this complicated.

"I'll have an Americano, please."

"Size?"
The woman in the green smock murmurs in a tone appropriate only for theatrical interrogation, perhaps on the set of Law and Order. I excuse her tone. This is Los Angeles after all, surely she's an aspiring actress. Fine.

"How many shots are in the regular size?"
"The Tall has two shots."
While I appreciate her full-sentenced response this time around, she hasn't answered my question.

"Is that the regular one: the middle size?"
"The Grande has three shots."
Is she taunting me, I wonder. And, I am forced to repeat my original question.

"Is that the regular one: the middle size?"
"The Venti has four shots."
It appears my repetitive quest for a response that will appropriately accommodate my initial inquiry has frustrated the Barista quite dramatically.

"Right. Just get me four shots. Thanks."

Only, at this point, I'm no longer speaking in terms of espresso.

Instead, I'm wondering - no, plotting - how I might transform my Americano in to something a little less American and a little more Irish.

Or, is that too obvious in broad daylight?

Then again...

...this is Downtown Los Angeles. I'm confident the bike cops would permit the additional ingredient if simply I tucked my "Venti" in to a brown paper bag.