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life essay: part 14
In 1979, we went to England to perform. Our hosts were very friendly and welcomed us enthusiastically. As usual in those days, they held a big banquet in our honor after the performance. The people who held the reception toasted us with beer; when they offered me some, I said, "Sorry, I don't drink alcohol. I'll have cola instead."
They replied, "Alright then, for every bottle of beer that we drink, you'll have to match us with a bottle of cola."
I thought about it. Why not?
Who would have thought those Englishmen could swig down eight bottles of beer? Who could have anticipated that I would be forced to drink eight bottles of Coca-Cola over the course of two and a half hours!
At first, it didn't affect me. But after a while, all those bubbles...I began to feel some discomfort in my stomach as the carbonation began to build. Towards the end, I tried swishing the bottle to get rid of the foam, but it didn't help much. My stomach began to feel very uncomfortable and bloated.
Finally, the dinner came to an end. They put me in a car to take me back to my hotel, but the rocking motion of the car just made things worse. I grimaced each time the car went over another bump. The pain! There was no room in my body for anything besides my stomach. It had distended to fill my entire abdomen. It was a unique form of suffering.
The car ride took 40 minutes--an eternity. As soon as I made it into my hotel room, I filled the bathtub with very hot water. I was hoping to steam it off. I alternated between showers and soaking in the tub. Finally, after maybe an hour immersed in the hot water, I began to feel that I could breathe again.
So that was my frightening experience with carbonated soft drinks. I swore never to drink that much again. I don't know how American kids do it.
