I was just reading a node about the sugar content in Jolt Cola and suddenly i found myself misty-eyed with reminiscance. After some pondering i remembered why this was. It all began once upon a time when i was young and innocent (1981-1998). I really wanted a new bicycle for my birthday and i figured that the best way to get it would be using reverse psycology.
So when my da asked me what i wanted for my 11th birthday i wrote up a little list. This list was quite ridiculous. As i recall it now it included things like a string of pearls, a car, my own personal version of the Star Wars Missle Defense System, and perhaps a pony.
The basic idea here was that dad would be so overwhelmed with my other requests that a bike would seem utterly misiscule in comparison.
Appearantly i also wrote on that list that i wanted a trip to Washington D.C.
Needless to say i didn't get the bike, i did get the trip to D.C however, and as a result i no longer attempt to mess with my parent's minds.
So i went to D.C that summer with my da and my step-mom. And this is the point where the Jolt comes into the story.
It is vitally important to keep in mind that at this point in my life the most intoxicating thing i had ever put in my body was Mountain Dew. Because of this, i could get pretty damn goofy on nothing but caffine and sugar.
I had never heard of Jolt before (and appearantly niether had my parents) so at the time it seemed perfectly logical to buy that one day when i was hot and thirsty.
In retrospect it may not have been such a good plan to give a hyperactive 11 year old girl that much caffine and sugar right before taking her into the National Archives.
Really it didn't go quite as badly as it could have.
I could have spilled the soda on the Declaration of Independance or something.
Instead what i did do was knock over the red bannister that marked off the line to the Magna Carta. All 50 feet of it. Metal posts and all.
The National Archives is a quiet building. Usually.
The embarrasment caused by this predicament was not topped until, years later, when, in a YMCA caused frenzy, i would inadvertently flash my boobs at my high school principal and superintendant of schools. But that is a whole other node.