POP. Three letters, hundreds of varieties, one onomatopoeia-tastic syllable. For as long as I can remember, I've had a love affair of sorts with my carbonated friend. It goes by many names and even I, one of POPs most loyal and dedicated constituents, have called it by different names throughout the years. Here are some stories of me and POP throughout the years, told through the lens of my varied, but always affectionate, names for it:
POP – This is where it all began. Any self-respecting first daughter of mid-western parents learns from a young age that any fizzy drink - no matter the color, creed, or container – is called POP. Said with the endearing (I like to think) mid-western accent that I have unfortunately lost in my 10 itinerant, closeted POP-loving years, it's one of the deadest giveaways of ones Ohio/Michigan heritage. Heck, I would not be surprised if someone told me that POP was my first word. We always had a two-liter around growing up. Maybe this is why I also have an affinity for the metric system...but I digress. My mom was obsessed with finding the cheapest price per two-liter possible. My dad and uncles put it in their drinks, and whenever there were social events going on, I knew to smell the POP before sneaking a sip. I learned the smell of Bacardi, Jack, and Crown at a young age. For my part, I just loved to drink POP, and drink it I did.
Half-and-half – In high school, when we got our licenses and were always looking for any excuse to drive, I habitually visited the quaint little gas station in Downtown Perrysburg for a 22oz half-diet, half-regular POP in a blue Pepsi cup. It was $0.86 (about the same price as gas at the time!). I probably had one every day for a year and a half, and I shudder to think of the unnecessary calories, tooth rot, and multiple of $0.86 that resulted. The half-and-half thing still exists. I order it at restaurants and even fake like “oops! I started with regular but I meant to get diet!” at fountain machines – of course I intended full-well to mix them all along.
Coke – Well, high school graduation came and like any bright-eyed teenage girl with a first love, I assumed it would last forever. So, I packed up my things and moved to Nashville, TN without even a hint of foreboding. Until the first time I tried to introduce POP to my friends. I don't remember the exact moment but it was probably something like, “I'm going to go grab a pop from the cafeteria, who wants to come?” And my born-and-bred southern friends looked at me like I had just spit on their mother's graves. “Excuse me, did you just say POP?” Cue laughter, mocking, etc. I was quickly educated that within a 13 hour radius of the Mecca of Coke, Atlanta, GA, all carbonated beverages were referred to as COKE. Oh. Well excuse me! What if I don't even like COKE and prefer PEPSI. BLASPHEMY. It turns out that coke was the general term for everything. So if you are ordering at a restaurant, tell the waiter or waitress that you want COKE and then wait for them to ask you “What kind?” to which is it is perfectly acceptable to respond diet coke, mountain dew, orange, or even Pepsi (as long as you don't call it pop). I was absolutely not about to risk more humiliation over this, so I replaced my darling POP with COKE for the next 4 years.
Breakfast – The first semester of my sophomore year of college was the only time in college that I was single. I went through a phase where I wore black pants, a T-Shirt, and flip flops every day (I have no idea why). I also had a special little tryst with POP (shhhh...don't tell the Southerners). For a few months, I had a Diet Cherry Coke and a package of cinnamon POP-tarts (how fitting) every day on my way to class. I am most definitely a creature of habit, and at a time that might otherwise have felt
Soda – After college, I moved to New York City, where I was introduced to another, brand new word for my old friend, SODA. To be honest, POP isn't really such a big thing in the northeast, so I never really figured out if this is what people call it in New York or if that's just what Taylor and his family called it, but I knew the Southern method of referring to all POP as COKE wasn't going to fly, and I couldn't bear to risk the ridicule of uttering POP for the first time, so SODA it was. I think it was in New York that I realized that Subway restaurants had the BEST POP. I don't know what it is about their mix, but it was yummy. McDonalds, they water theirs down so much you can barely taste it, but Subway is more common in New York anyway, so I was happy. SODA and I got along just fine during the 5 years I lived in New York. Along the way I started to think that maybe I should try to get away from all the empty calories of SODA, so I took to drinking straight-up Diet Dr. Pepper because it was sweet enough to drink without having to mix it with regular SODA.
Thank you – The last name that POP has had for me it “Thank you.” My boss always buys me a Diet Dr. Pepper for me at the deli down the block from our office. I'm not as big of a POP drinker as I used to be, so the 20oz. bottle usually lasts the whole day, and sometimes I even have some left to throw out before I head home. But my boss knows I like it, and when he's feeling especially appreciative for the work I am doing or just sees that I could use a pick-me-up, he always buys me a Diet Dr. Pepper and leaves it on my desk. It's his small way of expressing his appreciation and I'm glad that POP can serve this important purpose in my life, just like it always have.
By now you're pretty infatuated with POP too, aren't you??
Well, not so fast. As I sit writing this, I am bidding farewell to my good friend POP on a plane to Denver, CO. We're going to Colorado for a week before we permanently move to Ann Arbor. I have one last Diet Dr. Pepper, and you know what, I don't think I'll even finish it. We've left behind New York City and, perhaps more importantly, I have left POP. You know, I've always been one to say, “You only live once, so do what you want, within reason.” And though POP, to me, has millions of redeeming attributes, in reality, POP is just not good for you. And also, I think I've outgrown my need for POP a little. Throughout life, POP has been a stabilizing, reassuring force for me. It has reminded me of home when I haven't been there. It's where I came from. So now as we leave New York and return home to Michigan, I don't think I'll need POP anymore. But don't worry, POP-HALF-AND-HALF-COKE-BREAKFAST-SODA-THANK-YOU, you'll always have a special place in my heart.
