Forget Pepsi -- Pass the Moxie Original Elixir

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Next, John lets me sample a mint julep, because unlike most of you 19th-century Southern plantation owners out there, I've never had one. It's so refreshing that I've since found myself walking around saying, 'I could really go for a mint julep right about now.'

'Have you ever had a pomelo?' John asks, uncapping a bottle of Quench. Down another aisle, he holds up a bottle of Manhattan Special Orange to show me the pulp. He tells me about the elderflower soda he's waiting on, and the rose-flavored soda he ordered for Valentine's Day. The possibilities and permutations seem endless.

He sends me home with a bottle of Moxie Original Elixir, which he cautions I might not take to right away, claiming that it will change flavors as I drink it. It does: Each sip starts as a cola, morphs into a root beer, and leaves the aftertaste of some sort of evil black licorice potion from Satan's private reserve. I can't say I wasn't warned.

On a return trip to the Soda Pop Stop -- to share the joys of a mint julep with a friend -- I try to get John's attention but customers are coming at him from all sides, asking for recommendations the way they would ask a seasoned sommelier. I realize that we're all there because we've had a door opened for us to a whole world of fun, adventure, and taste. It's a door that should have been open to us from the start but was barred by capitalism gone sour. 'If it was about nostalgia, it would have been over in five years,' John says. 'It's about freedom of choice.'

I ask him, 'Do you still get mad at Pepsi and Coke?'

'No,' he says. 'I thank 'em every morning.'

Reprinted from Swindle (No. 7), a bimonthly cultural almanac founded by Shepard Fairey and Roger Gastman. Subscriptions: $50 (6 issues) from 3780 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 210, Los Angeles, CA 90010; www.swindlemagazine.com.

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