Only somewhat related to Richmond
Written: Oct 12 '99
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Product Rating:
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Pros: saves lives
Cons: is very far away from Philadelphia
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| gac's Full Review: Richmond |
From an electronic letter sent to the marketing department of GO-GO drinks, Inc., 1720 Whitesone Expressway, Whitestone, NY 11357, after a recent trip through Richmond, Virginia.
They asked:
"got any go-go stories you'd like to share?"
My father is alone, dying, deflated in front of the golf channel, cordless phone clutched in one hand waiting for a ring, my god anything, an incoming call that may or may not happen. "It's no fun being sick when you're old, son," he says to me, in between these awful dry hacking coughs. "It's no fun when you're young either -- see a doctor." I sounded like a broken record. "See a doctor." Anyway, I called back today because he was supposed to see a doctor -- and he had -- but he was worse, and the old in his voice was more prominent and I had to make up an excuse to get off the phone before I went crazy listening. If he had been feeling OK maybe I would have told him about how my girlfriend moved out and that I live alone now, and how my car has no muffler anymore but that's OK because I am having it fixed next week, and how I did a dumb thing last weekend and drove while very tired and almost killed my friends -- and -- this is the Go-Go product part -- how I WOULD HAVE ALMOST DIED had it not been for your fabulous product. Well. Your product. Because, frankly, it is a foul beverage. I refer to Go-Go BUZZKILL, of which I am now particularly fond, especially the ass shot on the can. Nice detail.
The thing is: He asked how I was, and I just said "oh fine." Had I told the truth:
What really happened was this: At about three in the afternoon New York calls, and says "Hey." It is determined that the party is south of Richmond, Virginia, and on the spur of the moment we invite ourselves, New York and I. So but the issue is she has to get here (Philadelphia) before we can drive down to DC and points south. It's a Friday, by the way, and we're all bored, oh so bored, because that is what the Gap ads tell us we must feel. So while the transport issue is being taken care of -- courtesy New Jersey Transit -- I go have dinner with Captain Fabulous at this Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown. A man in a tank top will come strolling out of the kitchen every so often and walk right up to the front of the restaurant (which looks like it belongs on the set of a Jackie Chan movie, right?) where he will plunge his hand into the lobster tank, returning to the kitchen in the same measured strides, unfazed by the thrashing bastard lobster he has trapped in his hand. We call him The Lobster Man, and try not to point as he makes his (theatrical) appearance throughout the meal. (We both have soup, by the way, which has no lobster.)
So I convince Captain Fabulous, without telling him where we are going, to come along, and we go get New York at the train station and we're off. Then there is a lot of driving on Interstate 95, which does not have rest stops as such -- more like these giant motorist temples, called lofty names none of which I can remember right now, but they have Starbucks and Cinabon and upscale gas, and you think maybe hey I should travel by car more often because it's not that bad. Some hours later I had second thoughts; no one else could drive a manual transmission car, so I was stuck driving the entire way which turned into double digit hours all told, and I was so tired. So tired. So tired.
When we stopped in DC to pick up the fourth in our merry band of gate crashers I had almost killed us twice -- but the first time wasn't my fault. A truck driver was asleep or something and his semi started to drift into my lane and I had to speed around him to restore calm in the vehicle. The other time was kind of not my fault either; I think this car up ahead had come to a dead stop (not a good move when everyone else is going 90 MPH), and I did this three point swerve thing, and it was all OK.
Anyway, I had sent Spaz a can of Go-Go BUZZKILL as a sort of back-reference slash joke, and he hadn't consumed it, but instead saved it. When I asked if he had any aspirin, when we stopped at his apartment outside of DC, he gave me the can of BUZZKILL instead, which I "slammed"; I think this means drinking the contents down all very quickly and ending up gasping for air. That's what happened anyway, and without that BUZZKILL I don't think we would have made it another eight hours on the road, with a stop at Waffle House in between, and then a motor back to Philadelphia.
So while I certainly can not advocate recreational consumption of your product, I am most grateful for the refreshingly unrefreshing BUZZKILL, since I am certain it saved my life plus the lives of three others. Today I bought a case, plus a single can of the coffee flavor (because hey you never know, right?) and also I called my dad, but, as I explained earlier, I couldn't tell him this story.
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
gac
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Member: G. A. Carafelli
Location: Philadelphia
Reviews written: 6
Trusted by: 38 members
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