In the summer of 1987 I was bicycling through Denmark. By afternoon I had done almost a century with the wind at my back through gently rolling hills. I was unusually wasted, running on empty early. I kept waiting for a fruit stand to pop up somewhere, but I finally had to settle for a gas station. All they had were Coke and candy bar machines.
I hadn’t had any soda for almost twenty years and was hesitant, but I could surely use the instant release energy from the dextrose. I also bought an Almond Joy and Payday for the coconut and peanuts which would follow up the instant release with a little sustained release. The Coke was ice cold. It went down so nice. I didn’t even wince from all the sweetness, which I was unaccustomed to. It was really, really good! And the Almond Joy was much better than I remembered.
Man, it was like a shot of Methamphetamine. I was GONE like a solid fuel rocket. For about forty-five minutes, then a kind of hangover set in, but I still had some energy. I made it to the campsite and had a heavy meal of steak and potatoes, which brought me down nicely. I slept very well. The next day I felt just a little off, but nothing really bad. It got me over. But all the next day, all I could thing about was Coca-Cola.
And today, all these years later, my guilty pleasure is a couple of Cokes every once in awhile. I love the stuff, but I know I love the stuff and it can give me gout, so I treat it like a rare reward for special times. For me, it’s just like a drug.