"Hello, we are Those People Who Somehow Turn the Names of Drinks Into Racial Epithets."

I'm the older man who has decided to try out this fancy new coffee shop that his grandchildren like, but has never tried any of the offered drinks save for straight black coffee. I am amused at the complicated concoctions on the menu, and try to remember what my grandkids told me to get. I try to explain the drink to the barista. She tries to help me, but cannot quite help me place the drink.

Suddenly, it clicks. I loudly announce to the server, in a voice the whole coffee shop can hear: "I know now, I want one of those N****r Filipinos!"

The coffee shop goes quiet, although I don't notice. After a few seconds of shocked silence, the barista says, "Um...I think you mean a Mocha Frappucino."

"Yeah, that's what I said," I reply. I notice the people behind me in line are staring at me. What, did I do something wrong?

It's very nice to meet you.