The Red Scare: Cheerwine

I see Cheerwine at all the North Carolina grocery stores, but never buy it because I’m too busy buying 2-liter bottles of Diet Harris Teeter. That changed the day I had to make a presentation at a North Carolina high school. From the get-go, it looked like a soda fiasco – the vending machines were scheduled to not operate until 1 p.m., leading me to wonder how kids didn’t fail every class before lunch time (then again, maybe that’s why they brought us there in the first place).

Anyway, the vending machine had apparently been stocked by some elitist hipster douchebag, the type who despises anything enjoyed by more than five people. My options were Cheerwine, RC, or some off-brand chocolate drink. I decided to help out the local soda company and buy the Cheerwine.

I really enjoyed Cheerwine – it’s kinda like a less-syrupy Cherry Coke. I sipped on it through lunch and the afternoon, and the caffeine and sugar helped me fight through what could have been a presentation-killing carb coma.

The only problem is I worried that my mouth had turned bright red. I tried to check in the bathroom mirror, but this particular high school used polished sheets of metal instead of glass. Obviously they didn’t want to upset the vampire portion of the student body who had no reflection, so they put up mirrors where you could only see a hazy outline of yourself. For all I know my mouth was as red as a circus clown’s – bad when you’re giving a presentation. The people in the room didn’t look at me with any more confusion than the average person, so I was probably okay.

The Verdict

Cheerwine gets a 7 out of 10. I wouldn’t seek it out, but it’s a nice change of pace, or the lesser of several evils if I ever run into a non-Coke or Pepsi vending machine again.

Second opinion via Greensboring

Photo Credit: Silenceofnight on flickr

No sir, I don’t lychee it: Yeo’s Lychee Drink

Yeo’s Lychee Drink. Note that it’s not soda. It’s not juice. Nor is it a cocktail, elixir, potable, libation or tonic. It’s a drink, period. Beyond that, this Yeo character isn’t letting on. The can does boast that it’s an “Authentic Asian Drink,” so at least we know it wasn’t made by a bunch of Australian poseurs or something.

I’ve never eaten a lychee. I’m not even sure how to pronounce it. Frankly, I don’t want to know. What I do know is I felt like I was drinking a can of strawberry soda after leaving it open on the back porch overnight. I’m aware this drink isn’t carbonated. Yeo’s apparently isn’t aware that it should be. Gulping Lychee Drink is like mainlining the syrup they pour on a Hawaiian ice.

The Verdict

Yeo’s Lychee Drink gets a 3 out of 10, which is dangerously close to Diet Coke territory. Strangely enough, I’ve got a feeling combining the two would yield something tastier than the sum of its parts – not that that’s any real achievement, though.