Word: cups
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...shrewdly exploited his compatriots' fixation on expensive luxuries is Keishiro Funakoshi, proprietor of the Akaneya Coffee Shop in scenic Karuizawa, a popular mountain resort 100 miles northwest of Tokyo. There, for 9,900 yen (roughly $38), he serves what must surely be the world's most expensive cup of coffee. Funakoshi readily concedes that it is not so much the quality of his coffee (a home-blended brew of charcoal-roasted grains freshly ground for each customer) or the decor of his establishment (a narrow, dark wooden hut decorated in rustic Mingei style), as the defiantly exorbitant prices...
...People come to Karuizawa with the expectation of spending money," he says, "so why shouldn't I help them in this endeavor?" Even those who do not sample the $38 cup of coffee-served at a special table by a kimono-clad waitress in a ritual that resembles a tea ceremony-can leave the Akaneya with the feeling of having been overcharged...
...teens, Bobby became a steady winner, but he was never fully accepted by the tennis establishment. He was too blatant about breaking the amateur rule against taking illicit payments and too big in the mouth. He claims that he was at first denied a spot on the U.S. Davis Cup team, though his record warranted it. Later, after he had taken the national singles championship twice and swept Wimbledon in 1939 (singles, men's doubles, mixed doubles), he was still not accorded the respect that contemporaries like Don Budge and Fred Perry received. He just did not look...
That puts King in a difficult spot. To be the sisterhood's standard bearer in Riggs' circus is to accept a cup she would rather pass. She acknowledges that "the only reason I'm playing him is because Margaret had to go out and play like a donkey." So she is out to avenge Riggs' humiliation of Margaret Court after all, and that rankles. "I mean, if I beat him, what merit does it have? Big deal. But I don't want to lose to this guy. I don't want to lose...
...flow of energy raising audiences to their feet and into the aisles. But for those who saw her perform even once, it was not easy to forget the gyrating girl in a glowworm mini, all surging emotion boiling up through swirls of curses and Southern Comfort in a Dixie cup. Or the single vivid impression recorded in the mind's eye that, without the scalding voice and tremulous ostrich plume headdress, she was really rather small...