My root beer experience

By Orange Life

   'Root beer,' I hear you say. 'Root beer! Who writes an article about root beer? What a boring topic!'
   Well, that may be, but not for me. Here in the Netherlands, root beer is not generally sold - only imported, 
in fact. But I became interested in this strange soft drink, and wanted to try it. This account may seem very 
dull to you, and maybe it will prove to be dull. But the truth has to be told, and this is, verily, my root 
beer experience.

   After a little searching I actually found root beer in a supermarket. It was in a cabinet with foreign 
foods, between Skippy peanut butter and South-American coconut soda. 'A&W Root Beer,' the can yelled. 
'Hey!' thought I. And so we met.
   I went out of the store and walked to the nearest park. I sat down on a bench and took a closer 
look at the can I had just bought.
   'A&W Root Beer, since 1919!' Reading on, I found out a couple of interesting facts: this lovely drink 
would supply me with 170 calories, and contained among other ingredients 'corn syrup and/or sugar'. How 
thoughtful of them to state that on the packaging!
   I just started opening the can when a grumpy-looking man - let's call him Alberto - walked by with three 
tiny dogs. The dogs barked at me, of course, and Alberto looked supiciously at my reddish-brown treasure. He 
soon walked away, though, so I could go on with my business.
   So I opened the can. 'Psshhht!' A liquid about the same colour as the can - coincidence? - bubbled up. 
'Easy now, my love,' I said.
   Then I took a sip. The root beer flowed into my mouth. 'What an odd taste!' I thought. 'Strange, indeed!' 
I concentrated on the taste and smell. It was rather sweet and somewhat earthy - like some bitter-sweet spice, 
or a freshly baked cake. This first sip was quite sharp and bubbly, which I liked.
   I felt suddenly very much at home in this silly little park, and stretched out my legs. The sun came from 
behind the clouds to shine on the trees and, incidentally, on me. An elderly lady on a bicycle gave me an awkward 
look. Quickly I removed the smile from my face and swallowed some more root beer.
   It seemed to be sweeter than the previous sip. Which I did not mind, mind you. As I explored this mouthful, 
and the next, and the next, I became more and more at ease with the taste. We patted each other on the backs like 
old friends. 'Yes,' I thought, 'this root beer is like a funny friend, always jolly and merry, but also one to be 
trusted, one to tell your secrets to.' While thinking all this nonsense I forgot to swallow properly, so after a 
few coughs my merry friend ended up somewhere near my nose. Served me right.
   I noticed now that the root beer began to have more of a mellow, gentle taste, as if the carbon was wearing off. 
It flowed very smoothly into my throat, and it seemed to have taken up a more relaxed attitude. 'Go with the flow,' 
it said to me, 'go with the flow!' I looked at the ducks in the pond. They were not 'going with the flow'. In fact, 
they were having some sort of a race. 'Go with the flow!' I yelled. 'Come here, duckies, and have some root beer!' 
A pretty girl who sat on another bench a few yards away stood up and walked quickly away, looking back to see if I 
was going to say more things of the kind. I tried to smile as sanely as possible and quickly drank some more root 
beer to hide my face.
   This sip appeared to be my last. So there I was, in an empty park, with an empty can. But there was some root 
beer floating inside me, and that was good. The ducks seemed not to have noticed my yelling and were looking at 
me. I waved; they did not notice.
   I looked again at the dark, red-brown can. 'Ahh...' thought I. 'This is what the Grand Canyon must taste like.'