litlover12

I was out with my cousins yesterday, walking around a cute little town called Clifton that has a few restaurants and shops. We went in this vintage-type consignment store, where I found a display of old Coke bottles. Now, my sister LOVES Coke memorabilia and collects it like it's going out of style. I don't know the reason; ours not to question why. I just know that she does, and it suits me fine, since it makes her very easy to buy for.

I found a 1996* Coke bottle with Epcot Center on it, which was perfect in terms of nostalgia value -- we went to Epcot several times when were kids and lived in Florida -- and only cost $2. It was a bit dirty, but easy enough to clean up, I thought.

I took it to the cashier, who was having a fight with a customer over a saddle. Seriously, they were having a fight over a saddle. (Is it just me, or is this starting to sound like one of those weird random dreams?) My turn came, and the cashier, whose mind was still on saddles, just sort of looked at me, and I said, "I want to buy this," and she said, "Why?"

I bit back a retort about how she must be gunning for the Saleswoman of the Year Award, and said it was for my sister. Really, I should have paid more attention to that "Why?" but the woman was still going on about saddles -- to me, who hadn't been involved in the fight at all -- and all I could think was "Woman, please sell me this Coke bottle and let me get the heck out of this place."

So she finally did, and I went out to where my cousins were waiting for me, and showed them the bottle, and one of them observed, "It still has Coke in it."

And it did.

Did I mention this bottle was from 1996? I was standing there holding a bottle with 16-year-old Coke sloshing around at the bottom of it.

At this point I was so embarrassed and mortified that I had actually PAID MONEY for this thing that I just tried to pass it off casually, like . . .

. . . and stuffed the bottle in my bag and half hoped it would vanish. It didn't, of course. So the second I got home I stuck it in the laundry sink, opened it (I will not attempt to describe the smell), attacked it with soap and water, and then let it soak for hours. (Also gave the inside of my bag a good wipedown with a handwipe.) It cleaned up fine, and my sister will have her vintage Epcot Center Coke bottle, and all's well that ends well. And hopefully my cousins don't think I'm a filthy pig who routinely goes around buying disgusting objects from saddle-obsessed shop owners.

The moral of the story: Don't buy Coke bottles from consignment stores. At least not without inspecting them EXTREMELY carefully.

*CORRECTION: I just looked at the tag again, and it wasn't 1996, it was 1986. TWENTY-SIX-year-old Coke. Blurrrrrgggghhh.