Cola wars

I went with a group of co-workers to lunch at a restaurant in downtown Atlanta the other day, and when the waiter came over to take our drink order, I asked for a Coke.

He paused, reminding me of one of my favorite John Prine songs (“There were spaces between Donald and whatever he said”), and said slowly, “We don’t serve Coke products. Is Pepsi OK?”

No, Pepsi is not OK. What is this, a Saturday Night Live skit? I kept looking around for John Belushi. I’m in downtown Atlanta and I can’t get a Coke?

I have never understood Pepsi drinkers. My dad used to be a Pepsi drinker, and this caused me much distress as a child, because I wanted to leave Santa Claus milk and cookies, like every normal American kid. But I was told no, Santa would prefer Pepsi and fruitcake. It didn’t dawn on me at the time that not only was my dad the only Pepsi drinker I knew, he also seemed to be the only person in the world who actually ate fruitcake. OK, so I wasn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree.

I drank too much Coke as a kid, as my standing weekly appointment with the dentist will attest. I remember one summer day, when I was about 16, and I was getting ready to eat my favorite lunch meal – a banana sandwich with mayonnaise and potato chips, and an ice-cold Coke. (Though, if something were really “ice-cold”, wouldn’t it be frozen? Just a thought).

Anyway, there was a problem – no Cokes in the house. I suppose I could have had some water or juice or tea, but I had my mind set on a Coke, and nothing else would do. There was another problem – I was broke. I had a job, but since payday was the next day, I had nothing. If you could put a tuxedo on an elephant for a quarter, I couldn’t have put a t-shirt on a sand flea. If turkey was going for 25 cents a pound, I couldn’t have bought a raffle ticket on a jaybird’s ass. You get the picture.

There was a Coke machine in front of a convenience store about 2 miles away. I figured I had just enough gas to get there and back, and after that I could steal some from dad’s gas can. I scrounged around the house looking for change, and after about 30 minutes of looking under couch cushions and crawling under furniture, I had finally come up with the 50 cents I needed – a quarter, a dime and five nickels. I drove to the store, purchased my Coke, and was on my way back home to enjoy a heavenly lunch.

I cradled the glass bottle in my hand all the way home. I loved its smooth curves. I resisted the urge to open it and take a quick sip. It promised to be just what I was hoping – sweet, fizzy, as cold as an ex-wife.

I pulled up in the driveway, got out of the car, and Big Boy, my mongrel dog, came be-bopping up to greet me, and he bumped into my hand, knocking the precious bottle onto the sidewalk, whereupon it exploded into a million pieces. It took me a long time to forgive that dog.

Remember New Coke? That was the worst idea since Delilah decided Samson needed a trim. I recall my introduction to New Coke. I was at a Braves’ game. I had just broken up with my girlfriend, I was 21 years old and hanging out on a Saturday night with my parents, and Eddie Haas was the manager. Things couldn’t get much worse, right? But then I went and got a Coke.

I took one sip, and that was it. I had hit rock bottom. I looked to the heavens and said, “My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Coke now tasted like….Pepsi! Was this some sort of a cosmic joke?

Thankfully, they brought back the old Coke, sort of. They use a different sweetener now than they did before the New Coke debacle. Certain convenience stores sell Coca-Cola that is bottled in Mexico, and it tastes like the old Coke. The owner of one of those stores told me that they still use cane sugar in the Mexican plants. I don’t know if that’s true¸ but it sure does taste better to me.

I worked for Coca-Cola briefly, and it was kind of a weird, uptight atmosphere, but they offered the greatest employee perk in the world – Coke machines everywhere that required no money. You just pressed the button, and out popped a free Coca-Cola, in a glass bottle. I probably drank 15 of them my first day.

The truth is, as I get older and thicker, I rarely drink a real Coke anymore. I stick to Diet Coke or coffee, but I’ll still occasionally allow myself a sweet, sugary indulgence.

But never, ever, will I drink a Pepsi.