Ghost in the Machino

Today, I ended my first month at the Times. So far, the place has exceeded my expectations. Won't bore you why, it's good for far.

On this special day, I witnessed a special, spooky thing in our lunchroom, which I'll tell you about later. First, my glorious friend, the icemaker. This thing makes long sheets of tiny cubes that drop from its ceiling onto a cube rubble. Most times it doesn't break apart since it's a very short fall. I get to bust these sheets apart with the cool titanium ice scoop that sits in its own bucket on top of the maker. Very satisfying. Okay, it's aluminium.

I gently beat the ice "ting ting ting" into useful cubes, just like my ancestors back when the iceman used to cometh. Then my handiwork goes into my 99 cent plastic beach cup from Walgreen's. (I don't mean to digress, but I bought two of these translucent cups. They're white plastic except for a wide ring of color one the rims: one blue, one magenta. Now, when you put them together, the color is PURPLE! That is so clever. I love color science!)

Back in the lunchroom, requisite vending machines provide: Nourishment, Candies, Coffees, and Beverages. Not an unusual set up. Enough for any documentary filmmaker to exist on for a month or so. I want to tell you about the machine they call, Ducale or, Mocafino Real Espresso.

He's a vendo that drips Italianess, especially with a gaudy strip of copper across his belly. The product is not bad from what people say but I don't care about that.

I've never been a fan of coffee vending machines. It's because of all the separate operations that go into making the coffee. The cup drops. The coffee flavored goodness pours. The special sauce makes an appearance. At some point, you have to chance that the internal barista has finished and make a grab for the cup. With luck, Ducale won't hose you down with any caffieney brownness.

Call it "ablutions," "toilette," what you will, but I caught Ducale cleaning itself today. I paid attention to the watery noises only because no one was around; I thought I might be getting a free espresso. But as I peeked in its little coffee staging area, I saw that it was spurting clear, hot water onto itself. First the right tube (I'm guessing- I didn't get that close), then the left. Then a gust of steam or something. Espresso breath. I swear to God I heard a sound like humming. Sounded kinda like "Louie, Louie."

Me gotta go.