Three Jordans and a Starbucks

I woke up this morning with a long list of errands that I needed to get done before my mother and I leave for the airport at 2 and an irritating caffeine headache. I sidetracked through Starbucks between my stops at the ink store and Half Price with the hopes of curbing the grinding between my ears and ordered a tall- no, grande- caramel frapp, an old classic. When asked my name, I routinely uttered "Jordan", a step outside of my usual routine of making up something absolutely ridiculous. 

The pleasant barista chuckled a little. "Really? haha. your drink will be ready at the bar in just a moment." 

The girl in line behind me, a few inches shy of 5 ft tall, wearing an All-American Cheerleader shirt, sophee shorts and red cons, steppe up and ordered a tall caramel frapp. At her response to the first name question, she also uttered "Jordan", which sent the barista behind the counter and her co-worker sitting in the plush chair adjacent to the counter to burst out laughing. In my glance in their direction, my eyes caught on the name scrawled in blue chalk beneath "Your barista today is..." and noticed that her name was also Jordan. 

Barista Jordan turned to the barista behind the counter, "I have never been in the same place as three Jordans before. I think it's a sign. You should name your baby Jordan, whether it's a boy or a girl."

While customer Jordan and I were awaiting our caramel frapps, we wandered through discussions of our common interaction with more boy Jordans than girl Jordans, and how we'd both been referred to by our full names throughout school  because of it. It was possibly the coolest interaction I'd ever had at Starbucks and it made me appreciate my name and my newfound caffeine addiction so much more.