I spent a lot of time during high school at the formica tables and long counter of a certain Dunkin Donuts . One of the more fascinating minutiae of the operation was the mechanism used to make regular coffee: somehow, in the few seconds between dispensing the drip coffee into a styrofoam cup (or massive plastic mug) and passing it across the counter to me, the person working the counter would swing it under a cream dispenser and a sugar-adder.
For me, regular coffee means different things. If I'm in the 212, it's a Greek paper cup with the legend "We Are Happy to Serve You", two sugars and a half-inch of cream. Invert once or twice, with finger covering the steam vent, and it's delicious. In the 415, regular is a small mug of espresso with a little hot water on top.
The donut shop itself was a treat: open 24 hours, far enough away from home that I needed to drive (and once locked myself out of the car while parked there, middle of the night, my parents out of town). The clientele were esoteric in an urban way, despite the suburban location: Manny, the card-trickster and math genius (who later showed up at the late lamented Greenhouse in Shadyside); Bob, the sometime employee and occasional lunatic; others may come to mind, eventually ...