Sol's Inner Vault

The taste of memory is a fickle process more complicated than a sweet pickle. As usual, I was in a rush. Hordes of holiday shoppers were moving a pace slower, all I needed was a drink. Just something cold from the case, notice how they put those near the cashiers? The choices weren't good, all the designer water brands I never get, but no Fiji, my only plastic exception. An impatient line already behind me, I grab a Dr. Pepper can at the bottom and zoom thru an open self-checkout. Three minutes later, sitting in the park, the sharp twang of the first soda sip reminds me suddenly of the last three recent times- it was terrible. Medicine harsh, and too everything, like the carbonation and corn syrup were competing for attention. Then, a bad chemical afterburn that felt like acid sandpaper mouthwash. Yes, this same product- yet, actually far different from the icy bottled Dr. Pepper of my prehistoric youth. But, that's the issue: what do we sometimes remember when it comes to tast