I never drank it growing up. I don't buy it at the grocery store, cuz I do not want it in my house. I will say, however that when I used to work a late night shift, I needed a little extra "oomph" to get me going and keep me awake. While everyone else was chugging "Red Bull" and shooting Mountain Dew in their veins, I would drink Diet Coke.
Now that I am back in school, I find myself in a similar circumstance; trying to stay alert to get my work done. It's not the staying awake part that is the problem. I am an insomniac... I have that part down. But it's the staying alert enough to learn part that I have trouble with. Hence the Diet Coke (DC).
Now, as I previously mentioned, I do NOT have an addiction. I mean, can I help it if my neurologist said I
Each night, sometime between 9pm and 11pm, I would make a run to the local McDonald's. And as usual, I take my order from the same worker. I always ask for a large DC, and he always responds with, "Ok. That will be One Dollar and Eight Cents."
On about day 3 of my after-8pm-diet-coke-run, I said to him (after he smiled like, "Oh - it's YOU again"), "So, are you tired of seeing me yet?"
He said in his somewhat thick Mexican accent, "Oh no... your addiction is good for business."
I said, "Addiction? I don't have an add-"
He looked at me like "don't deny it" so I said, "All right... but I need this for my school work at night."
Then as I gave him my money I said, "I feel like I should know your name or something; but you don't wear a name tag."
He said, "Oh.... it's a long name; hard for you to say probably." Then he started to spell it. "G-E-R-A-"
I cut him off, pronouncing it "Herardo?"
"YES!" he was excited, "You got it right!" he exclaimed.
I said, in my best Airplane movie jive talk, "My mama didn't raise no dummy." Then he asked me my name. I told him. Then he went on and on about how he thought it was a beautiful name.
I didn't know at that point whether or not to be creeped out or flattered by some 60 year Mexican McDonald Employee gushing on about my name.
So, when I went back (the next night of course), Gerardo was again working the drive-thru. I knew it was him, cuz he has this distinct voice. I said, "Hey Gerardo... It's me, Emma. I'll take the usual, and I know, One Dollar and Eight Cents".
When I got up to the first window to pay, he took my money and then said, "Uno momento, Chica..." and handed me my drink so that I did not have to wait at the second window... I guess I should be flattered. I mean that is some REAL customer service, right?
By the way, I do not think he got my Airplane reference...