My husband pulled up to the gas pump and I leapt out of the minivan, slamming the door shut behind me. I charged into the little gas station shop, its warning bell dinging above my head. My mission: a frosty Diet Dr. Pepper for my poor thirsty hubby.
The refrigerated case brimmed with an array of cold beverages for thirsty travelers on the go. I spotted hubby’s drink of choice and pulled it from the row. What about me? I usually do not get a drink for myself (sadly, a Coke has 42 g of sugar), but this time I decided to grab an iced tea. A sweet iced tea. I browsed the iced tea options through the glass door. Notable flavors of their black tea are extra sweet, sweet, and mint. (And a bunch of other flavors blah blah.) Thinking of the sugar-heavy Coke, it occured to me to check the amount of sugar in the teas. I reached for the mint tea, easily accessible in the middle row of drinks, and turned it over for the nutritional content. 27 grams of sugar. Well. I pulled a bottle of sweet tea to compare to the mint. 42 grams. Huh. As much as a Coke. If the sweet tea has 42, then how much does the extra sweet have?
I returned the sweet tea bottle to its middle shelf slot and spotted the extra sweet tea on the highest drink shelf. I was bizarrely determined to check the sugar content of the extra sweet flavor. I thought to myself, I’ll just have a glance at the extra sweet’s sugar content, put it back, and be on my way. Because I am so short, my fingertips barely touched the bottom edge of the bottle, even when I stood on my tiptoes. I was now pushing the bottom of the bottle up about half an inch in an effort to launch it up and make it fall (a short person’s trick), but I couldn’t get enough reach to do anything more than lift it slightly. I pushed, it lifted, and dropped back down. I pushed, it dropped. Push, drop. Push, drop. I must have I blacked out because I have no idea how long this went on–a few seconds, ten minutes, a year? Suddenly a fellow gas station patron approached me and generously asked, “Do you need a hand?”
It was at this moment, with a flourish like a villain removing his cape, I asked myself, Why am I trying to reach the tea? What the heck am I doing? I turned to him and replied brightly, “Ah, thank you, but I’m actually not going to get that tea on the top shelf. I don’t need it… but thank you,” and I scurried to the cashier to complete the small and manageable task I went in there to begin with: not to reach the tea, but to buy the drink.
P.S. The extra sweet tea has 65 g of sugar.