We took the number 14 tram to the suburbs on the way to Ikea. We don’t (yet) have a car and so would be public transporting it and then walking the last half mile (anyone else out there ever walk to Ikea?).
The boys were protesting extreme thirst before the hiking portion of our journey, so we ducked into a convenience store. And there it was, in the cooler next to the Red Bull: David, the Energy Drink.
I am surprised it took this long for someone to jump on the David and Goliath story, the same David who would be King of Israel. This was a guy with a lot of chutzpah and energy. The aspiration and message in the can: Party Like a Jewish Historical Figure. I’ll drink some of that.
Well, actually I won’t. Because I don’t read German and so have no idea what kind of chemicals they want to disperse into my body (I’m all for introducing chemical enhancements, but I want to know what they are). And the picture on the can — a shirtless barbarian-type warrior in distressed leather shorts and strappy sandals hanging out in a cloud — is just too fey to convince me that this juice will help me rock. I am more certain it will help me dance circa Nena and 99 Luftballoons. But I welcome someone else giving it a try and reporting back in.