August 06, 2008
Every once in a while I, too, succumb to the pleasures of the senses and give in to the vilest and most violent types of hedonism and debauchery. I'm not proud of it, but hiding my foibles would be nothing more than hypocritical. Don't we all abandon reason and rationality in pursuit of some of life's most exhilarating pleasures? Don't we all have a private source of bliss -- or is it torture -- which startles us awake every morning and soothes us every night into fitful, dreamful sleep?
Mine is frozen yogurt. The tart kind, that makes your tongue pucker and your insides shiver in ways you never thought possible.
On the way to appease my craving this afternoon, I Googled "Yog-Art coupons" on my smartphone and wished, for once, that the stoplight would stay red a few seconds longer. That's how I discovered that my favorite tart yogurt spot accepts competitors's coupons.
First stop: The intersection of 6th and University, which is full of weekly event magazines like The Reader. I opened directly to the coupon page, where a 30% discount for Capri Yogurt smiled at me from between ads for free lunches, new boobs, and other modern miracles.
I presented my coupon to the Yog-Art cashier before ordering, to check. It was valid.
Needless to say, I decided on a large. (With the coupon, it would only be about $4.)
The young man grabbed the cup -- should I say bucket? -- and started coiling the frozen nectar. In a few seconds, his hand began dropping under the weight of so much yogurt. And he kept going. The stiff, hard mass, now a powerful cylinder, grew taller and taller, ever more solid, until it passed the rim of the cup and finally tapered to a gentle end, a whopping eight inches above.
I finally exhaled.
"Do people usually order that much for themselves, or for groups of eight?" I asked casually.
He eyed me curiously. Was I interested in group activities?
"Well, some people eat it by themselves, but only if they're reeeeeally hungry," he offered.
I realized that as good as it looked, there was no way I could eat a pound of frozen yogurt by myself. And so I did the only thing I could.
"Do you have a freezer?" He looked at me squarely. It was, after all, a frozen yogurt shop. "Would you be able to split that into two portions and put one in the freezer, so I can eat it later?"
He kindly obliged. I ended up eating one on the spot and took one home.
Gained: $3.50 (the price of a small yogurt).