I wanted some soda.  I went to the gas station because all the grocery
stores in walking distance are closed.

I grabbed 6 bottles of Fresca.  I'm still in town for another week and it
doesn't make sense to make a tom of trips, right?  So I stock up.

I bring them to the counter.  I say "hey."  They just stare at me.  They
don't even start to ring me up.  They just look at the bottles, at me, at
the bottles, at me, at me, at me.  These two guys (one serious looking and
50ish, the other about my age with crazy lookin' hair) have nothing in
common except their united stance that Fresca == terrorism.  I'm getting
kinda freaked out.

Without knowing what's going on, I blurt out "I like Fresca" in a sorta
monotone/paranoid manner.

All of a sudden, they're my best friends.  We're cracking jokes and
laughing and the younger guy is telling me that I should wear a Fresca hat
for some reason.  The older guy says "would you like a Fresca bag?" and
while he's putting my drinks in it, I tell him with a grin "leave one
out... it's for the walk home."  The younger guy says "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE A
FRESCA ADDICT!!" and I laugh a big hearty laugh at his not-at-all-funny
joke, hold the bottle up to my head and give him the dorkiest "I love my
Fresca!" smile you can imagine.  While engaged in this witless mirth, I'm
not embarassed or feeling awkward at all.  We're all acting like complete
buffoons and we don't even notice.

Then I leave.

About 20 feet out the door, the smile finally fades and I stop on a dime
and just stand there for 10 seconds trying to figure out what the hell
just happened.

--ninja