Wow, Ramune...
I'll never forget the hot-ass day where I stopped into an Asian market just for the air conditioning, and noticing the colorful oasis of icy-cold Asian soft drinks and juices to my left...I grabbed the first thing I saw, which happened to be a blue Ramune. Turning around on my heels, I paid for it, then walked back out through the automatic doors into Cleveland's 95-degree summer heat, embracing the wave of oven-like air and sauna-like humidity, not nearly as upset or irritable as I was when I pulled into the parking lot, because I had the lovely defense that was a frigid beverage, numbing the palm of my left hand. Not knowing at all what the blue shit in that sexy, sensuously curvy bottle was going to taste like, only admiring its ballsy, defiant cold against the near-tropical heat, I struggled to figure out how the hell to open it. After 5 minutes of puzzling over that strange little marble, I was startled as something I did caused it to recede abruptly back into the womanly curves of the bottle with a resounding *POP*. At this point, a small crowd of Asians now watched from a safe distance as that odd-looking white guy struggled with that sexy bottle. I took a swig and enjoyed the prickles of the sweet carbonation against my bone-dry tongue. Swallowing, I couldn't help but grin as the spirit of Ramune took over and replaced the grouchy, sweaty white dude that, until recently, was burning in the sun. Ramune changed me that day. I believe that change was for the better.
Ramune, I love you.