After I write this I’m going to invent something amazing in my basement. You know those convenience store sodas that are large enough to climb into? Well, you really should carry that with two hands. My invention will free up a hand for some candy bars. And since your pockets will be free of candy bars, you can stuff a couple of donuts in there. If you manage to get your super-sized soda to your car, the thing won’t fit in your cup holder anyway. (Unless you buy this.)
I started to think about sodas served in cups the size of garbage cans when I heard about New York City Mayor Bloomberg’s proposal to ban their sale in certain places, like restaurants, movie theaters, and street carts. Here’s what I heard: if you so much as think about a soda larger than 16 ounces you’ll be tossed into a cage and whipped with, um, whips. Luckily, that far off land, if it really does exist, is nowhere close to St. Louis where we can legally buy sodas containing 512 sugary calories.
My grand idea came from someone who knows someone else who knows someone who exercises, like, every month and carries water in a bag that straps onto her back. A straw extends from the liquid, loops around her head and hangs limply under her chin. When she gets thirsty she can run to the nearest 7-11 to buy a Big Gulp with a silly tube bouncing around her face. No, seriously, the straw is conveniently placed for easy access to her beverage of choice, which for exercisers is rum and Coke to help numb the realization that they’re in the middle of a workout. We all know exercising hurts; that’s why we sit on the couch instead.
I haven’t confirmed this, but based on the last time I exercised, 2002, the beverage bag can be used in reverse. I remember running for exactly ten seconds before feeling the need to stop running. But first I put a finger over one nostril and blew air forcibly through the other one. Snot zipped through the air at 200 mph. This is what runners do. Don’t judge.
But when you’re running and you pass, say, a McDonald’s, non-exercisers (let’s call them “normals”), failing to see a grizzly bear or rabid dog behind you, will help you by shouting “Whatever was chasing you has done gone. You can stop running!” This is the worst time for a snot rocket (or farmer’s blow). I mean, come on, you could get shot. With a real gun. Hence, the snot tube: A discreet snot disposal system. So, yeah, we can blow snot into the tube. Or maybe that’s gross.
That’s where my brilliance (finally) comes in to help people buying Super Big Gulps from 7-Eleven. With the exerciser in mind, I imagine a flexible bladder that straps onto your chest and has a straw that can be adjusted to rest five centimeters from your lips. You can fill it up and walk around gathering other snacks. Then later when you’re driving and texting, all you have to do is pucker up and suck air in and–magically–the straw is vacuumed into your mouth. Drive, text, and gulp. Simultaneously.
The Soda Holda will sell for 10 dollars (or enough to make me rich). When you wear it on subsequent visits, refills will be something like five cents.
The second version will be more discrete, made especially for movie-going New Yorkers unable to buy the giant sodas once the ban kicks in. Soda Slacks. You put them on like–duh!–pants and it holds two gallons of soda. The design is too complicated and I don’t have the space to go into to it right now. Sorry. For now, just picture the lower half of your body packed in bubble wrap (the big bubbles, not the tiny ones) and just know it’ll be way cool.
When I take my kids to see some crappy cartoon on the big screen, I deserve 256 ounces of carbonated sugar water. I play this game. I have to take a swig every time a penguin talks. Or a squirrel. Or an owl. Or a sea urchin. Basically, I drink when a non-human or inanimate object speaks. Take away my soda slacks and you’re asking me to march up to that little room to go all kung-fu on the projector. And I really don’t want to ruin it for everyone.