I’ve never been a heavy drinker. I think I’ve had a pretty
average drinking career. I started when I was in high school and drank the
shitty keg beer and the jungle juice at house parties. When I was 21 and
working in a restaurant, nights out bar hopping were a regular occurrence. I
went through my mid-twenties, “Sex and the City” phase and drank only
Cosmopolitans. Shortly after, I graduated to a cocktail followed by a couple
glasses of wine, all of which were chosen carefully and discussed at the dinner
table. But, I enjoyed all of these as luxuries, a reward for a hard day at
school or at work. Lately, I’ve been going through a phase (or maybe I’m just
getting old, but for now, let’s call it a phase) where I just don’t feel like
drinking. Ever. It is partially because the hangovers are getting worse and it’s
expensive to drink all time but, I also struggle with the feeling that I don’t “deserve”
a drink because I haven’t really succeeded in the acting industry… yet. (I will
get really wasted the night I win an Oscar. Like, puke in Elton John’s bathroom,
proposition Ryan Reynolds for his sperm any way I can get it, kind of wasted.) But,
for now, I’ve let up on the drinking. There’s no need. Coincidentally, since I’ve
cut down, I have more energy, the dark circles under my eyes are disappearing,
and I started a blog. This finds me missing the days spent mulling over which
beer to try and which wine will pair well with the night’s dinner. So, I’ve
been trying different Root beers, Cream Sodas, Sarsaparillas, and Ginger beers
to curb the need to be a connoisseur of some sort. As it turns out, there are a
lot of people out there who put a lot of time and effort into the science and
art of making these tasty drinks. Finally, a non-alcoholic vice I can be a snot
about.
I decided to stop by the BevMo in Pasadena on my way home
from work one Friday afternoon to choose some root beers to sample (exciting
evening planned.) I like this location.
Everyone is always really helpful without being overly friendly. They keep the
conversation strictly to Bev’s. Usually. Today, I headed straight to the soda
section and was pleasantly surprised with how many obscure and vintage sodas
they had to offer. I grabbed a six-pack carrier and began to search. I had
chosen a few already when I heard a voice behind me, “I hope you have the
Butterscotch in there already.” I turned to find my friendly BevMo assistant smiling,
excitedly. He was probably in his twenties, with perfectly parted hair, a too
tucked-in shirt, and the posture of someone who plays video games every second
he’s not working.
“No.” I said. “It sounds good though! Where is it?” I was excited.
He ran his finger delicately along the wall of sodas until he found ‘Dang! That’s
good!’Butterscotch root beer. He pulled it out proudly and presented it to me like
a fine wine.
“Oooooo.” I said, my eyes lighting up.
“They use real cane sugar. It is buttery but still has the
strong bite a root beer should have. Have a you tried a Sarsaparilla?!” He and
I were both excited now! I was going to have BevMo’s resident expert choose the
best for me. This was great! Before I knew it, I had two 6 packs of soda. 6
root beers, 2 cream sodas, a sarsaparilla, a bottle of Cheerwine (a southern
friend had JUST been talking about it so I had to try it,) and bottle of Moxie,
a vintage soda that, according to my expert, “couldn’t be defined by any of the
characteristics of today’s sodas.” He insisted I would need to try it myself.
I was so eager to get home and sample, I turned to him and said,
“Thank you so much!” And I turned to walked away.
“W…w..wait. My name’s Jason.” I turned around to find Jason
with his hand extended toward me for a handshake.
I suppose this wasn’t
uncalled for. We HAD just spent a solid 15 minutes discussing soda. My hands
were full, so I awkwardly shifted both six packs into one hand and tossed my
purse up onto my shoulder to extend my right hand. He was waiting so patiently.
I shook his hand and said, “Andrea. Nice to meet you. Thanks again!” I turned
quicker to walk away.
“You’re very pretty….” Oh
my god. This just took a serious turn for the worse. Can two people of the
opposite sex really not have a conversation without one of them taking it the
wrong way? I was in full server garb with my hair back in a bun and still had
the smell of meat on my skin. Did he really
think I was “presenting” myself for “mounting?” How was I getting out of this? I let out a sigh and was getting
ready to interrupt with the “I have a boyfriend” speech…
He continued “and I don’t often meet pretty girls who take
such interest in Soda.” Where was he
going with this?
“Oh… Uh… thanks. Heh.” I said.
In the voice of Sam Elliot from The Big Lebowski: “’Do you have a good Sarsaparilla? ‘Souix City
Sarsaparilla?’ ‘Yeah, that’s a good one.’” He quoted. “Ha ha. You know where
that’s from?” He said this with a cockiness that was awfully strange coming
from his nerdy, little body.
“Noooo.” I replied, wide eyed. What was happening? Was I getting hit on or not?
“The Big Lebowski! Come on! A soda girl like you?” He
playfully hit my shoulder. A ‘soda girl’ like me? What was this guy’s
game? His confidence in his “game” was kind of awesome, but I needed to
remove myself from this situation immediately.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, I guess.” I turned
and started walking this time.
“Well, maybe you should see it again!” He started to follow
me. “Maybe we could watch it sometime?” He asked this as I approached the
checkout line.
“Actually… I have a boyfriend, so… but thanks anyway.” I
said, probably a little too condescendingly with squinted eyes and a
sympathetic smile.
“Oh, I get it. I just thought with all the soda… on a Friday
night…. That….” He trailed off.
“That what?!” I
said, a little surprised. “all the
soda?!?!” Was he serious?! I knew I was going to regret the inquiry, but I knew
what he was implying! What a dick!
“Well, that you were… alone… SORRY….” He said with his hands
up like, ‘calm down, crazy woman’ hands, turned and walked away. Why is it sooo
weird that I would be buying soda…. BEVMO!? Why would it imply that I was
single and “alone?” And why would he take this as the opportune time to hit on
a customer? “Aw. She’s buying soda.
Pathetic. I’m goin’ in. I’ll impress her with my soda skills, compliment her,
and then finish with the Lebowski line.”
“JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUN TO TRY SOME NEW ROOT BEER!!” I
shouted after him, getting my shoulders into it, (were my hands free, I would
have sharply waved them, very reminiscent of George Costanza.) I was fuming. I
turned to find the people in line staring at me. Now, I was the girl with two
six-packs of soda, yelling at the BevMo employees,… who really did have a
boyfriend. So, it is not pathetic. (Right?) Sometimes, I just get to that point
where, the only way to get my point across is to shout it, annunciated, in a
real dramatic fashion. I am an expert in this area.
The BevMo guy was an idiot but he sure did know his carbonated
beverages. I’m sure he’ll make some soda loving girl very happy one day. As for
me, I’m working on my temper. AND As it turns out, the Soda Jerk was right. The
Dang! That's good! Butterscotch Root Beer was the best. I drank it while I watched ‘The Big Lebowski’
a few nights ago…. WITH MY BOYFRIEND!!!!
Hahaha! I would have loved to have been there with my six pack of XX's saying " jajajaja! Pendejo!"
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