Drank

--Garrett Richie

I guess a short introduction would be appropriate since it’s guest week. My name’s Garrett, and I’m a friend of Robert’s from Mizzou. I started reading Classic Brian because of him, and it basically fit the concept of a “write what you want” blog that’s only sense of direction seemed to be to write about life, which I loved. But anyway, that’s a little about me (name + connection = adequate background). On to drank.

Until yesterday I wasn’t too sure about what I wanted to write for this blog, but a series of recent events (and drinks) made it easier to come up with something. I’ve always had an odd affinity for drinks because I feel that they can sort of capture the essence of a moment, event, memory, etc. Everything from those plastic Kool-Aid bursts that every kid looked forward to after tee ball games to hot chocolate after sledding or apple cider in the fall and eggnog at Christmas, there always seems to be a drink for significant moments. This post is going to be somewhat anecdotal, as I managed to have the best of 3 drinks of my life in their respective categories during the past week or so, 2 of which I had while doing chill fall activities with Robert (here’s to Autumn).

This whole drink affinity thing was rejuvenated with something a little less appetizing than the 3 drinks I’ve had in the past week. Coming down to college I brought a coffee mug that my girlfriend’s mom gave me as a going-away gift. It’s got a picture of my girlfriend Molly and me that was taken at her graduation party. It’s currently sitting by the computer half-full of double strength, black-death, cheap Folgers coffee. Hooray for college quality. As weird as this may be, I wake up every morning and look at that mug sitting on top of the economy, apocalypse-ready sized canister of Folgers before flipping the switch on a cup of Folgers that I brew double strength with no sugar, cream, etc. Ever since I was a little kid I remembered watching my Dad drink black coffee like it was nothing, and I would always go to try it and like it but could barely stand a single sip. Every time I’d go out with him, whether it was a hunting trip, some weekend errands, or what have you, I’d try to drink it but always ended up cringing and pouring it out. For some reason it was engrained in my mind that my Dad was the ultimate badass for downing it without a thought, and I was determined to learn to like it or vomit trying. Overdramatic? Of course, but I was a young kid who idolized his father, which I consider extremely normal. So now I find myself triumphant over vomiting, although sometimes my stomach screams at me for violating all laws regarding ratios of scoops of coffee-to-water. Every cup that goes down reminds me that everyday I’m working toward growing into the hardworking man that my Dad is, and am getting closer and closer to finally holding my world in my arms come Thanksgiving break. Wow, a little long-winded there. Moving on to the 3.

Last weekend Robert and I kicked off a chill fall season with the Roots n Blues Festival in downtown Columbia, which is apparently a must-attend for any Mizzou student/CoMo resident. As we walked around sampling the barbeque, homemade potato chips, and music venues, I stumbled across a barbeque stand that was selling homemade sweet tea. OH MY. Talk about something that blows away anything you’ve ever thought about sweet tea. I doubt I’ll be able to enjoy another Arizona, McDonald’s Sweet Tea, or anything else ever again after downing those 20 oz. of home-bottled glory. Robert, who doesn’t even like sweet tea, was in absolute awe. It was good when you drank it, but there was this aftertaste that completely paralyzed your mouth with pleasure. I won’t bore you with any more descriptions, but gosh. If I were ever to spend $100 on one drink, that would’ve been the one. It seemed to fit the night perfectly, which was actually rounded off with one more drink: a fountain coke with vanilla and cherry syrup that Robert and I semi-shared (insert “awww” here) sitting on the curb of a gas station during a late night Columbia bike ride. Something about Styrofoam cups (I liked them before Lil’ Wayne, just saying) and no lids makes life seem clearer to me, and there wasn’t much about life that I would’ve changed during that moment. Sitting under the gas station lights and staring out into the night with little-to-no conversation was exactly what I needed that weekend. It was proof that life can slow down after a chaotic week, even if the next one is going to be just as busy as the last. Drinking the $3 sweet tea and a $.99 coke made my night so much better than any other purchase under $4 would have. In fact, looking back on Roots n Blues, my clearest memories are those where one of those drinks was in hand. So that’s 1.5 drinks…on to the cider.

The day after Roots n Blues was a very quiet, autumn Saturday. Fall took Columbia by storm that weekend, and Robert, his roommate Dylan, and I found ourselves wearing quarter-zips and jackets while on our way to a corn maze. 15 minutes away from campus, we escaped the campus atmosphere to chase each other through dried up corn stalks in the dark, which was obviously fantastic. Being able to smell something slightly more natural than dormitory was literally a breath of fresh air. But for me the night came down to sitting 3 across on a bench drinking hot cider and watching a small bonfire. Sure, we were at a cheesy little farm/corn maze with a public fire pit that could’ve boasted a better fire, but sitting there drinking the best apple cider of my life with Robert and Dylan made my entire life stop for a much-needed few minutes. Little did I know I was about a day or so away from one of my most stressful moments in college, and that breather proved invaluable to me at the time. Yet again, here’s to fall, and the glorious apple-flavored seasonal beverage.

As the following Monday slowly destroyed the tranquility of that past weekend, I found myself more stressed out than I had been in a long time. All of the pressure of college seemed to be piling up all at once as my immune system was again failing due to extended levels of high stress that were threatening to send me to the health center again the following day with a bad cold that currently has me on some miraculous antibiotics (that’s even a stressfully long run-on). As classes finally ended, I went to the student center to eat for the first time that day, and on the way out I stopped at the little beverage place for some sort of juice to help with my cold (side note: I’ve been obsessed with orange juice for years). So walking up to the stand, I spotted what seemed to be a scaled-down mass execution machine for citrus fruits sitting behind the counter. A quick scan of the menu revealed that this death device produced 100% orange juice, which is a term no one trusts anymore because you can even find it on from concentrate orange juice, which I’ve been reduced to drinking ever since I got to Mizzou. But as soon as I swiped my Mizzou ID to buy that 16 oz cup of absolute oral ecstasy, half a dozen oranges met their death to produce the purest, orangiest orange juice that I’ve ever seen. As I walked out of the student center with the death of 6 oranges on my hands, I drank what would go down as the best fruit beverage EVER. I finished it just as I stumbled across Robert laying in the sun writing, which is one of the chillest things I’ve seen anyone on campus do this year.

At that moment, I realized that the sun was still shining, the juice in my cup still tasted good, Robert was mad-chilling in the sun, and life was going to go on. Yeah, I was stressed beyond belief at the moment, but life was going to continue. I was going to wake up the next morning feeling much better, and the sun was STILL going to be shining. The love of my life on my coffee mug was still going to be in love with me and waiting for me to come home to her at Thanksgiving after 96 days growing, learning, working, and living here at Mizzou. Robert would still be my chill friend, and that orange juice would still be in the student center to drink before writing this. Life was still going to be there staring me in the face.

And yes, I was ready to drink deeply of that too.