My umbrella makes contact with my coffee: a gentle whisper of a kiss, if you will.
My friend, with me at the time and watching, makes a strangled shout of warning, but too late:
The coffee cup bonks me on the back of my head, oozing warm, sticky and delicious smelling coffee all over my hair, shoulders and thighs before clunking to a stop on the soaking pavement where it slops a bit more coffee out.
The sad part of it is, in direct relation to my coffee addiction, my main concern was not the state of my head, hair or clothes, but the fact that more than half my grande cinnamon dolce latte was spilled D;!
Later, however, when the stench of coffee had imbedded in my nostrils and caused my hair to stick in thick chunks to each other, I rather regretted that my coffee spilled at all. Particularly on a day when I had to be at the school for ten hours in that state.
I figure such an epic fail as that required immortal documentation online.
But mostly I'm just amused.