My Tumultuous Relationship with Root Beer

Root Beer makes me vomit.

I don't like the taste of Root Beer. True.

I say that it makes me vomit to merely emphasize the fact that I don't like the taste of Root Beer. False.

It's not an exaggeration or a method to help me convince you of the severity of my dislike for Root Beer. It's a fact. When I drink Root Beer, I throw up. Granted, I haven't drank any Root Beer since the last time it made me vomit, but would you? I think not.

Let's revisit the scenario from the last time I drank Root Beer, shall we? I was 15 (so now you have to imagine me being at least 4 inches shorter). I was at Lake Shasta on a houseboating trip with my high school youth group. The sun was setting. We had all gathered around the basecamp for a night of singing gospel songs and playing games (pretty traditional evening routine). As my competitive spirit starts to swell, we are all split up into two teams.

The first activity I sit out (not by choice! but due to too many numbers, you can only compete in one activity). I watch as my fellow teammates line up beside the other team (LOSERS!) and the first person in line is handed a large brown paper bag. On the count of three the first person in each of the two lines reaches into the bag and pulls out an object. They are now required to consume the entirety of the contents in their hand before passing the bag on to the next person in line. I remember very little about what my teammates were forced to eat, except that there were multiple jars of baby food in that brown paper bag. I can't remember if my team won or not (Shocker, I know, but I wasn't participating so I was less invested).

Activity Number Two. I am up to the plate. A handful of members from each team are asked to stand along the edge of one side of the picnic table, facing the members from the opposing team. So here I stand, at the picnic table staring down the person facing me. Starting at one end of the table and working their way down, the youth group leaders begin placing an object in front of each person at the table. As I look down in front of me, what else do I see but a nice cold can of A&W Root Beer? Oh great.

Rules of the Game. Starting at the head of the picnic table, both teams begin chugging the can of Root Beer. When they have emptied the contents of their can, the next team member pops the soda can and starts chugging. First team to place the last empty soda can upside down on the picnic table wins.

And, I'm sweating. The only thing worse than this can of soda would be a jar of pickles. But, it's a competition. What can I do? At this point, I'm more concerned with winning than I am with my own tastes. So I lift my head and growl at the individual standing across from me. OK, I don't really growl, that would just be weird, but you get the idea.

3... 2... 1... GO!

And we're off! These Senior boys just demolish these cans of soda, and in what feels like less than 30 seconds we've finished at least three cans. We've got two people ahead of me, and before I know it the person standing to my left has the soda can at their mouth and they're chugging. I just can't let my team down! He/she (how could I possible remember) smashes their can upside down on the picnic table and my shaking fingers are popping the top to my can of A&W and raising it to my mouth. Ughhhh... Just that gnarly smell alone makes my stomach lurch. I've got Root Beer running down my cheeks, splashing on my shirt, sneaking in my nose, not to mention pouring down my throat. I have absolutely no idea how I finished that can of Root Beer, but all I remember is smashing the upside down can on the picnic table and running for the bushes.

I cannot tell you which team won. Hopefully mine, but as the game finished up I was a little preoccupied upchucking into the greenery. I'll spare you the details, but lets just say it came out with as much force as it went down with. And, if the vomiting wasn't enough, I had Root Beer all over my shirt, my face, my hands. I smelled like Root Beer for the remainder of the night, and fought off the upchuck reflex for quite some time. We won't even get into the whole inability to burp thing.

It was a less than pleasant experience, and I haven't sipped Root Beer since that awful evening.