Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Ice, Ice, Baby

It began with my high school boyfriend. We would eat at the restaurant where he worked, and while we would often choose the same beverage to enjoy, he preferred his without ice. His reasoning was very simple: the drink is already cold when it comes out of the fountain, so why would he want the last third of it to be disgusting and watery when the ice started to melt?


One of the best things about working at a fast food restaurant is that you learn what they don’t want you to know: that the soda is worth WAY less than patrons pay for it. $1.85? They probably paid that for the entire stack of cups under the counter. This also answers the question of why gas stations and that Mom & Pop place down the street only charge seventy nine cents for a large soda. Gas stations are already making enough money off of other things that they don’t mind if you only pay a bit more than the 64 ounce soda you’re buying is worth, and nobody bothered to whisper to Mom or Pop the secret restaurant Secret of Bilking Your Customers Out of Their Money Without Them Noticing or Otherwise Minding Too Much.


The other best thing about working at a fast food restaurant is that they don’t mind if you drink their soda whenever you like, without paying for it. The place I worked kept little paper cones next to the machine in the drive thru, so that employees could have a quick sip of something if they got parched, and no one would offend any customers by doing so. A paper cone that only holds six ounces of liquid doesn’t need to have any of its already limited room taken up by something as superfluous as ice. But I can’t remember how many times I stood, gaping, as a co-worker strolled up, scooped some ice into a cone, and enjoyed a sip or two of their desired beverage, tossing cone and barely used ice into the trash as they ignored my protestations that the soda was already cold and they didn’t have that much of it anyway, so what was the point of the ice in the first place?!


I can’t drink a blended margarita (or daiquiri, or any other blended drink, really). First of all, it’s blasphemy. Margaritas are meant to be on the rocks with salt. (I also have some strong opinions about adding different fruit flavors, and don’t even get me started about sugar). Second of all, it’s too cold to drink immediately. If you sip into it right away, you’re stuck clutching your forehead, trying to wait out the brain freeze. Finally, if you like to enjoy your margarita slowly instead of knocking it back and ordering another three rounds by shouting across the room at the waiter, a blended margarita is not for you. Because if you sit around chatting, waiting for it to be tolerably drinkable, you’ll probably miss that perfect moment when it’s not going to freeze your face off but isn’t a disgusting concoction in a glass (on sale Wednesdays for $6.50!) If you don’t pay  attention, the window when it’s right at the edge of that uncanny, watery valley will pass, and it will leak its quickly melting ice juice into your drink, ruining it at a faster rate than, say, a traditional margarita with a large chunk of ice (with salt on the rim).


My fellow diners usually scoff at me when I order my soda without ice. It doesn’t stop them from continuing to give me strange looks when I try to explain that the ice displaces the soda in their drinks, so not only are they having to drink something gross after the ice has melted (or having to leave a third of their now disgusting drink on the table when we leave), but they are also getting less drink than I am.


One of my first theories for the ice craze in this country is that in Europe, there isn’t a lot of ice used in drinks; during the Revolutionary War, Americans decided that they didn’t want to be like the British so much that they changed their table manners (which hand do you hold your fork in when you eat that piece of steak you just cut? It could mean the difference between Patriot and Loyalist). Is our overwhelming need for ice just an overwhelming need to not be the same as our former colonial oppressors? Nah. We’re just Americans. We just want what we want at the temperature that we want it.


Well, I have news for you, America. Your ice is melting into your drink. By the time you get to the bottom of it, you will cringe at the watery taste of your wasted beverage. Make fun of me if you want, but I’ll be here, leisurely sipping my margarita without getting brain freeze and enjoying all of my soda without having to throw it out. You don’t have to give me credit if you decide to emulate me. Just enjoy your extra, non-watery soda.


It was already cold, anyway.

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