I want to buy the world a Coke with Coffee (Human Pursuits 22/4/22)
Observations from an unofficial taste test a few Fridays back
VANCOUVER — We were already running late when I left the house to do a couple last minute errands. It was Friday night, a couple weeks ago, and a bunch of us were going to Alex and Kate’s for a pre-drink before hitting some warehouse party in East Vancouver. Their friend Hunter had flown in from New York City and they wanted to show him a good time. The plan was to get together for 8pm and then hit the clubs shortly after 9 p.m. Ambitious? Maybe. But who am I to say. After all, it was 7:51 p.m. and I was just getting to the liquor store.
I was there for one purpose: pink lemonade flavoured vodka sodas. Nudes to be exact. I moved past the registers at the front of the store, and made my way towards the side wall of reach-in coolers. Nude’s minimalistic millennial-friendly packaging makes it all too easy to spot. But as I scanned for the soft pink packaging, I came up short. It was only after a few seconds that I noticed the empty space near the bottom of the cooler. A price tag marked the spot pink lemonade Nudes normally call home.
They were completely sold out.
I texted Leah the bad news as I left the store. We had an unopened bottle of white wine from dinner a few days earlier that would probably cover us. I hate to arrive anywhere empty handed, though, so I pressed on in search of potato chips. It was 7:58 p.m. as I stepped back onto the empty West Broadway sidewalk.
The sun had already set but construction crews were still working on the site of the new Arbutus skytrain station. The ambient drone of their machinery spilled off of the barren strip, where the asphalt used to rest, ringing off the buildings and into the dark grey sky. I plugged my ears with a pair of wired EarPods and moved west. Charli XCX was singing about the backseat, how she’s better off all alone. Hunter saw her in Los Angeles a few days before and told Alex and Kate he could smell the poppers in the air. I crossed to the other side of the street and waited for the lights to change.
The song was still going as I walked through the parking lot. I hit pause and stepped into the harsh fluorescents of the Shell convenience store. I grabbed a bag of Old Dutch Sour Cream and Onion chips, with Rip-L technology, off the rack nearest to the door. It was well past 8 and I knew I had to go. But I decided to take a quick pass by the coolers to see if they had any single cans of Diet Coke. While Coca-Cola products are available in pretty much every grocery and convenience store in the lower mainland, possibly the world, they almost always come in a plastic bottle, which is inferior to the aluminum can in terms of both flavour and sustainability. Sure, you can buy a six pack at the grocery store and keep it at home. But in terms of soda-related thrills, I’ve found nothing hits quite the same high as a single can of DC.
Despite being well stocked, I was disappointed to find the cooler filled almost tip to tail with plastic bottles. I cursed my luck and turned to the til to pay, when suddenly I noticed something in the neighbouring reach-in. I stared past the illuminated refrigerator glass and into the climate controlled chamber. A reddish brown coloured tall boy stared back at me. It read: Coca-Cola with Coffee.
The group chat had become aware of this phenomenon a few days earlier, when Kate received a targeted Twitter ad asking “Which #CokewithCoffee flavour are you trying first?” For most people, the answer might be “Huh?” or “None for me thanks!” But the promotion happened to coincide with a Coke renaissance, that was sparked after a Sunday dim sum found us comparing and contrasting the brand’s keystone beverages (editor’s note: Diet Coke is at it’s most delicious when paired with a lemon wedge — the thicker the better). And so, somewhere deep in the recesses of my psyche, something clicked. I opened the cooler door and grabbed a cans of the Dark Blend flavour. It was 8:07 p.m. I told the clerk I didn’t need my receipt as I moved towards the door.
All told, we were about 45 minutes late to the party, which is not bad if you really think about it. As we walked over, I decided it would be fun to conduct an unofficial taste test. We split the 14 oz can into shots. Everyone got one except Leah, who was once told by a police officer that Coke cleans blood off the pavement better than water, leading her to wonder whether it is safe for human consumption. While I can’t speak to its cleaning properties, the reviews for Coke with Coffee were surprisingly positive, in part because it boasts a flavour profile strikingly similar to that of an espresso martini. In other words, it’s pretty fucking delicious. At least in small doses.
Around 11 p.m. we ordered two cabs and proceeded to cross the Granville Street bridge, through the dark heart of the city, towards the adjacent industrial arteries. We spent the next few hours dancing and drinking beers as drag queens performed to Donna Summer. It was after 2 a.m. when we realized it was time to split. The next morning, Kate would joke that Coke with Coffee has psychoactive properties, but that might’ve just been the stimulation of a large crowd two years into COVID. If only there was a way to bottle that feeling and sell it. To build an entire empire off the idea of feeling good all the time.
Comments, criticisms, collaborations? Email me at ethan@humanpursuits.org, or follow me on Twitter and Instagram.
