It's true, I must be a hedonist. Everywhere I go and in everything I do, I seek pleasure. I want pleasure. Give me pleasure and then a double-scoop of pleasure on top, please.
As I write this, I am nearing the bottom fourth of this mornings' greatest pleasure: an ice cold 500ml bottle of Coca-Cola.
Yes, it's the High Fructose Corn Syrup version of Coke so it's not the Ultimate Pleasure but an indulgence nonetheless that was sparked by my unique (but not unusual) storage method. The Coke was part of Spro Coffee's stock that I keep in the garage. It snowed yesterday and it was bitterly cold this morning as I loaded the crates of Coke into the back of the Sonoma for the fifteen minute commute to Towson.
When it came time to unload the bottles, there they were, in their fizzy, frozen state. That weird, brackish-looking color of frozen coke. It's a classic look and a tempting fate. I couldn't resist.
There's nothing like the feeling of the frozen Coke sizzling down your throat and into your gullet. It's cold. It's crisp. It's refreshing (until that syrupy hell makes you thirsty again ten minutes later). It's what Coke was meant to be.
So go ahead, gentle reader, freeze your Cokes. Let the ice crystals form and indulge yourself with hedonistic abandon.
