Sometimes I am amazed they do not market Coca-Cola for medicinal purposes.
This morning I commuted with what felt like fiery hot coals in my insides complete with acid reflux and complete physical duress. I should not have stayed up so late last night first of all. That last pitcher of Yeungling was completely unnecessary. I will even regret the two slices of pizza I shoveled into my mouth when they were offered to me, though turning down free pizza while drinking would be sinful.
So yeah my night and now my morning are laced with regrets and yet there is a light at the end of the tunnel. That light is one of the greatest commodities America has ever shared with the world. Cola, delicious, caffeinated, sugary sweet cola. The miracle worker.
When I arrived at the soda vending machine, crisp George Washington in hand, I knew everything would come together. You see inside that drink vending machine is a cold cola. That cola will coat my insides in joy and whisk away bad feelings with happiness. When things feel rough again, well, I’ll get another cola. It is the great fixer upper. My everything cure. It might not be a healthy way to live but it feels better than the alternative.