The ale for your ailments
There are only two times I drink ginger ale: with Asian cuisine or when I’m sick. It complements the Chinese food very well and soothes a sore tummy.
I would love to tell you that the reason I have a bottle of Canada Dry in the fridge was because I got terrific takeout, but, unfortunately, I had a two-liter for all the wrong reasons. Those reasons were Sneezy, Sniffly and Achy, the least popular dwarves. I came down with a heck of a cold. I had a sore throat, too. My voice was all gravely and raspy. I sounded like that pig farmer on “Downton Abbey.”
To compensate for the cold, I have been drinking a lot of ginger ale. Aside from hot tea, it’s my go-to beverage when I’m ailing. Ginger ale is still around because some genius in marketing thought we should give it to children when they have a cold or flu. It’s also used for mixed drinks. That should be their slogan: “Ginger Ale! It cures kids and sickens adults!”
Ginger root is one of those plants you have to wonder about. It’s a gnarled, yellow log that juts out in different directions. I’ve often wondered about the weirdo caveman who first picked one up and said, “We should eat this.”
But I digress, like I do. I came down with a nasty cold. I swear I didn’t get sick just to get out of shoveling the driveway. I was out there with my shovel, gasping, wheezing and sneezing, like 10 times this week. I didn’t let the sickness or the snow stop me, even though both the snow and the head cold were unrelenting. Every time I thought I was feeling better, I’d go into a coughing jag. Every time I thought the driveway was clean, more snowflakes would innocently float down from the clouds and mock me. Yes, I thought the snowflakes were laughing at me, but I was heavily medicated. I was taking NyQuil when I was supposed to be taking DayQuil. I got my days and my ny’s confused.
I chased the ‘quils, of both day and night varieties, with sparkly, effervescent Canada Dry. A true comedian would have said Schweppes. It’s a funnier word, but I’m brand loyal. Oh Canada, my Canada. I couldn’t wait to crack open that two-liter bottle.
Tangent time: I’ve come up with another great slogan. “Soft Drinks! America’s last chance of understanding the metric system.”
As an adult, I don’t know why I thought a sugary soda was going to cure me, but that first glass was just the right yummy for my tummy. The second glass tasted less good. By the third glass, I read the bottle to check the sugar content. Yikes, sweetie, yikes! I still managed to drink it all. It’s very likely that I’ve cured my cold with calories and tooth decay.