Ode to Coke

I was going to write about successfully quitting my Coke habit, which is to say, stopping my habit of drinking the corn-syrup cola called Coke, or at least stopping my habit of drinking it every day as opposed to just when I go out to eat, which, if one is aware of my financial status, is not often.

I got addicted to Coke working at the newspaper. I didn’t need it during the day. Hell, usually, I was so busy during the day I didn’t have time to drink anything, except during lunch. My newspaper days were chock full of phone calls and short drives to school events and businesses and intersections to take photos of tree-sized logs that had come off the back of those log trucks -- you know the ones, with the little red flag hanging off the back on logs that look like they could fall off at any time? -- and had crush some poor soul’s Navigator.

So I was busy busy busy all the time and didn’t even have the time to think of caffeination. But production days always went on forever. We’d finish writing and editing the copy, drive down to our production office in Fuquay-Varina (that’s actually the town’s name. Dumb, isn’t it? I lived there for about a year at one point. The difference is there they had a 24-hour open Harris Teeter. Louisburg closes at 11) to lay it all out on the computers there (with the ads already done there -- otherwise the whole operation could have been done at my desk), scan in all the relevant photos (think pre-digital cameras) and all that jazz.

Well, that whole process always took all night -- longer because due to a scheduling conflict with the actual Fuquay newspaper (whose production offices we shared since we were part of the same chain) we would have to wait until they got done with their work first. There weren’t enough computers to go around. So after working eight hours, writing and editing, and answering the damn phone, we then had to drive to Fuquay (about 15 minutes) start production at 5 p.m. or later. So, to stay awake and aware (one of my duties was to proof the whole deal -- my editor was dsylexic and couldn’t be coutned on to cacth all the mitsakes) I discovered that caffeine was my very best friend. And to get that steady flow of pep, I would sip from a can of Coke all night until we were finished. That usually meant anywhere from 3 to 6 Cokes a night.

Later, when I worked as a proofreader for an agency in Durham, I found my attention would shift as well, unless I was constantly infused with caffeine. Coffee highs were too bell curved, plus I really don’t like coffee, and it gets cold. So I did the same thing. I’d usually consume about 3 or 4 16-ounce cokes a day there. So I got in the habit of chain Coking -- pouring it into a glass with ice, and sipping it out through a straw (to save my teeth), pouring more in when the glass would get to be half-empty.

Since I left that job, I’ve been steadily drinking Coke, adding to my waistline and compounding my heartburn and probably doing no good for my overall constitution. Until about two and a half weeks ago. I just decided to quit (or at least quit drinking it daily) and so I quit. I’m back to drinking Coke only as a treat. I drink more iced tea now, but that’s not really addictive, especially since the stuff I’m drinking doesn’t taste very good. And water. I drink a lot more water. I still treat myself when we go out to eat -- which, considering we often end up in the burg of Wake Forest, which seems to be totally shut down on Sundays, the day we shop for groceries, we more than not end up at Applebee’s, which only serves Pepsi products. I drink it, but it’s just not the same thing.

So, as I was saying, I was going to write about kicking the habit, but then I realized that some fellow bloggers like this guy or this girl might not like it so much, seeing as they are both addicted to the heavier stuff -- tobacco, I mean. You do know that nicotine is as addictive as heroin or cocaine, don’t you? So I thought, since they seem to always be blogging about trying to quit or being off cigs for 3 days or 6 months now, that quitting smoking must be really hard and so writing about quitting drinking Coke, or at least, learning to drink Coke in moderation, might seem a little offensive to say the least.

So I’ve decided not to blog about it.

Instead, I’ll just post the dedication I wrote to the drink I was an addict of for so long:

Ode -- to Coke

Sugar.
Water.
Syrup.
Color.
I willingly open my arteries to your sugar rush.
Sip.
Hold --
then you slide down over my tongue,
past my cracked teeth;
pouring pure sugarcane satisfaction
into me.

No dessert can rival,
no sweetener can match
the pure-pleasure,
open-addiction,
ecstasy-driven
lust
I derive
for
that in-credible,
un-challenged,
un-equaled,
one and only,
one
of
a
kind --
Coke.

Yum.