THEIR SODA AT
HOT DOG JOHNNY'S
Geology students from the Bronx
were talking next to me. They had
piled out of a large van for a lunch
break right where I was. About 12
of them on some sort of a field trip;
they were two and a half hours from
home, and hungry. They ordered their
hots dogs with sodas and fries. Their
leader, or guide, or whatever, had bought
a very large birch beer for, as he said,
all of them to try. Evidently they had
never had birch beer before. Something
about the Bronx, I guessed.
-
I sat there listening to him explain to
them how it 'tastes like root beer but
with a wash of Wintergreen in it.' None
of them, it seemed, really caught on,
as he was left begging with a huge
cup of soda in his hands.
-
We were all sitting outside, in the thin
Autumn chill, along the brook or river
which ran alongside. These knowledgeable
'Geologists' were taken by what they'd
found : a trace here of mountains and
streams. 'Not just any stream,'' said the
birch-beer guide, 'that's the Pequest
River.' I hoped for his sake he was
right. They piled back into their
van and took off, while eagerly
plotting their next rest stop.
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