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Why I Choose Coke When I Go To The Soda Vending Machine

By Mark Etinger

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Published: 27Jan2012
Word count: 451
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I stood in front of the soda vending machine. I fingered the ridged edge of my quarter thinking about what to choose, knowing all the while that it would be a Coke. I wondered how many Cokes I've had in my life. I was always a Coke guy—so refreshing, so sweet and meaty compared to the light watery taste of a lemon-lime soda. My brother and my old man always favored Sprite. It wore the guise of a thirst-quencher but it was a soda. And if I'm going to get a soda, I'm going to get a SODA. That's why I always appreciated Coke.

Plus Coke is more universally known. And it has my favorite color on the label, or can. The best Coke I've ever had was when I was driving through Napa Valley on an early June day. It was mid-afternoon, about three-thirty, that weird time when the day is languid and tired and it's not yet evening. Especially in the summer, three-thirty might as well be mid-day, it's just past the hottest part of the day, which is two o'clock, midsummer or midwinter. I went into a small general store, rural, though long used to wine-tasters' fixations. I paid the cashier, who wore glasses and a brown belt with a large steel buckle. I opened the door and the bell jingled with the sound of my footsteps clanking over the wooden porch beams. I ran back into the car and sat in front, the air conditioner blowing onto me as I panted and heard the hiss of the opening Coke cap.

I slugged that first sip and it was like the first sip of coffee in the morning, which could have largely been due to the caffeine. And with the sip came evening; we had officially passed into that latter half of the day. For the rest of the ride, the shadows lengthened and the long golden-hazed light of midsummer shone across the gray road. It dappled us through the trees. I finished my Coke. I threw the bottle to my feet, rolled it up and down the car floor, feeling the sixty-three degree car air cool my legs. And as we drove north, the land became wetter, and the rolling vineyards gave way to small mountains. Cool streams and rope swings.

That was a great Coke. And it was a great day. So ten minutes ago, when I went to the soda vending machine to get a Coke I didn't have expectations that this one would be better than that one. All I expected was for it to taste the same.

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