I'm a regular

Because we took off time to go to Seldovia and will be returning to Denali National Park on Tuesday, Katherine and I have been working extra hours this week. By the fourth consecutive ten hour work day, my cheery face begins to droop a little. Luckily, the Midnight Sun, our designated local coffee shop, is on the way to work. Usually when Katherine and I drive Lyn's car or ride the bus to work we stop for 16oz cups of coffee (no room for creme, thank you). During my years of frequenting coffee shops, I have observed a certain class of customers who rush in, pay for an unspecified drink, and walk out without a word exchanged between them and the employee behind the counter. I have also seen clients cheerfully welcomed in by their first names, small-talk with the employees—never about coffee—then the barista hands him his drink and wishes him good luck on the meeting that afternoon. Who are these people?! I wondered.
They are Regulars.
This summer, a goal was to become one of the savvy who steps into the coffee shop, say nothing about coffee, and leave with exactly what they want sloshing between their hands. Today, this hope was realized. I walked into the Midnight Sun Cafe at 7:50 and by the time I reached the bar, my 16oz cup of black coffee sat waiting for me on the counter. $1.50 later (no sales tax in Anchorage), I left without uttering the word "coffee" or any of those phrases usually required to communicate your coffee wants.
I'm a regular.