Fighting over Fresca

I love Fresca. You know, that kinda tart, grapefruity soda that people either love or hate. I think more people than not hate it, but I've loved it since I was a kid. My mom would drink it sometimes, and I would snitch some from the bottle (I wonder if she ever figured that out...).

I am not a big soda drinker at all -- soda's fizziness annoys me and makes me burpy. But I do keep a 12 pack of Fresca in the house for those times when I want some soda. (aside -- TheHusband, OTOH, is a total soda-hound, with Pepsi being his libation of choice.) Funnily enough, it came out the year I was born, so we will both be 44 this year. Yay, us!

Prior to 2005, Fresca (at least in the US) came in only one flavor -- grapefruit. In 2005, black cherry/citrus and peach/citrus were added. I think that the black cherry version is an abomination (and I usually like black cherry stuff), but I adore the peach-flavored Fresca. If I had to rank the Fresca flavors, it would be 1st--peach/citrus, 2nd--citrus (original grapefruit), and a far distant 3rd is the cherry version (blech). Oddly, there are other flavors marketed in non-US markets, including a frightening-sounding "grapefruit mint". Grapefruit mint? WTF?

Anyway, there is a sort of point to this discourse on Fresca. It involves a fight over a single can of Fresca. About 4 years ago, I had the great pleasure to attend a real Hollywood premiere of a movie. I know the person who wrote and directed that movie very well and was honored (and totally juiced) to be invited. I flew out to LA from MD on a Tuesday evening, attended the premiere on Wednesday night, and flew back the next day. A whirlwind.

But not only did I get to go to this premiere, I got to go in the limo with writer/director, his family and other friends. One of the other people in the limo was my brother (of the bicycling-across-America fame). I think I've been in a limo only two other times in my life (other than the beaten up ones that take you to-and-from airports in NYC area). This was a king of limos -- a white, stretch Cadillac Escalade. The damn thing was as big as a Rose Bowl Parade float and had about the same turning radius. Only slightly worse than my Mazda station wagon, actually, but that's a separate issue. I needed a freaking stool to get into it, because I am short and it was HUGE.

There were about 10 people in the limo on the way to the premiere. We cracked open a bottle of champagne, but I, my brother, and the writer/director really don't drink alcohol. Not from any moral reasons on my part -- more because I just never really developed a taste besides get-drunk-on-it-while-in-college. Then we discovered a can of Fresca. And a fight ensued. Between me, my brother, and his friend Nina. Literally. Each of us wanted the Fresca. For our own. Grudgingly, we split the can amongst the three of us, while the rest of the passengers probably looked on with bemusement. "Fresca instead of good champagne? What the hell is wrong with them?" is probably what they were thinking. But, yes, Fresca over reasonably good champagne. And no regrets.

And I watched the movie with my eyes closed, because it was a scary movie, and I'm a wimp. The Fresca didn't fix that.