I am Unstoppable and I Love Orange Soda.USA

 

 

I am Unstoppable and I Love Orange Soda

People can say what they will about Philadelphia.  As a North Jersey college student, my peers have written it off as “A downgraded New York,” or “a dump with nowhere to park.”  Still, in the City of Brotherly Love, brotherly love accounts for most of my finds.  The first of them was the most important- a cup of orange soda that changed my life.

Pat and I have known each other since pre-school, and now both of us are in college.  We met Jon much later, but the three of us grew close almost instantly.  Jon’s presence here is important.  The man is a bona fide gentleman.  Seeing him argue is a rare sight, and even at his worst, he understands his feelings well enough to articulate them well.

The three of us were headed for a Japanese restaurant in the city.  When we found a sense of the time, it was edging a bit past 9:30, and the restaurant would close at ten.  Getting hungry and having already hyped myself for sushi, I was a bit irritated by the confirmation that making it was out of the question.  To make matters worse, we had forgotten where Pat had parked.  Disappointed, I turn to my first instinct and bottle it up.  It surfaces minutes later, when we come across a cat.

I have a certain love/hate relationship with cats.  I adore the ones that grow on me, but this was years ago.  My only real experience was with my cousin’s cat, Mickey (I have a special distaste for that creature).  Jon takes note of the cat and approaches it.  Peeved, I raise my voice and say, “Jon, we don’t have time.”  His response put the first crack in my worldview.

 

Do we really not have time?”

It comes off stern, perhaps with a touch of iron, but there is no unnecessary aggression.  Now catching myself, I apologize immediately.

Giving up on our original plan, we explore the city.  To hold us over, we stop into a corner store and each grab an orange soda.  The pearl of wisdom I left with that night set in when the orange soda healed me.

Soda is hardly the healthiest thing in the world, but I felt refreshed.  Without the thirst and the lukewarm feeling in my gut, I was able to focus on what mattered:  good company.  With that in mind, I realized that I was, contrary to popular adages, sweating the small stuff. Crying over spilled milk.  No more.

Eventually, we stumbled upon a sandwich shop- the sign said it was closed, but the door was open.  The owner appeared to be working the store, with a cashier at the counter.  Both were bright and friendly, and the fact that it was open overtime seemed to be just because they liked working there enough to work longer.  The same way the orange soda set the tone for that night, that encounter in the store set the tone for Philly.

We found Pat’s car, and we even got in touch with our friend Jamey, grabbing dessert at his restaurant toward the end of his night shift.  Coming upon two new favorite places to eat in three hours, I could count this as a good night.  Passing time in the foyer of his apartment complex, we found ourselves talking about whatever crossed our minds until we left at four in the morning.

A good adventure may not always call for traveling far, and even a meaningful adventure can lack the conflict and danger of a classic swash buckler movie.  No one can afford to let every little thing ruffle their feathers, and since that night in the city, I find myself stronger, wiser, and (most importantly) happier.

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