Just what the doctor ordered

I love Dr. Pepper. Just thought I should get that out of the way right up front.

It wasn't always that way. In fact, my first encounter with the good doctor was in the United States when I was probably about twelve years old. We were on the way to Salt Lake City and stopped in Great Falls, Montana for some junk food. (as anyone knows, it's not truly a road trip until there is junk food) In true American style, the junk food was cheap and plentiful. The supermarket where we stopped had chocolate bars three for a buck, and six-packs of pop for something like a buck fifty. Needless to say, we came out of that place loaded for bear. In addition to the dozen or so chocolate bars I had chosen, (remember, this is back in the late 80s before American candy was widely available in Canada, so this was a huge novelty for us) I had decided to take a chance on a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper; something I had never even heard of before but my father assured me tasted just like cherry Coke. Sounded pretty good to me.

Unfortunately, it tasted nothing like cherry Coke. In my opinion, the taste fell somewhere between cheap generic cola and Buckley's mixture. In other words, it was one of the worst things I had ever tasted. I got about a third of the way through the first can and decided that I had made a serious error in judgment. I dumped the remnants of the can out the window, swiped a can of my brother's cream soda to wash away the taste, and relegated the nasty-ass Dr. Pepper to the floor under the driver's side seat of my parents' station wagon. For all I know it may still be there, rusting away with that car in some forgotten junkyard.

It was years before I would try Dr. Pepper again. I remember seeing it when it again became popular in Canada and wondering why anyone would subject their taste buds to such a horrible concoction. I stuck to my grape Crush and shook my head whenever I saw someone buy a Dr. Pepper. Poor people didn't know what they were getting themselves into.

Everything changed one day at the 7-11 near my high school as I was skipping seminary to go play pool with some friends. It was customary to stop for Super Subs and Jalapeno corn dogs on the way to my friend Ryan's grandparents' house, where the pool table was located. Usually I would wash it down with my customary crush or a slurpee; but this particular day, the stars were aligned for something drastic. I ate the Sub, played a quick round of Neo-Geo with my friend Tyler, and gulped down a corn dog before realizing that I was out of money. In the days before bank cards and Interac, once your cash was gone you were out of luck; and my cash was gone. Unfortunately, the jalapeno corn dogs had been unusually hot that day and my throat was begging me for a drink. I asked Tye to spot me a dollar for a slurpee, and he countered with an offer that at first glance seemed more cruel than offering ice cream to a freezing eskimo. He would lend me the dollar, but I couldn't buy a slurpee with it. I had to buy a big gulp, and it had to be Dr. Pepper. Tyler was a confirmed Dr. Pepper addict, and I had taken great delight in pointing out how disgusting his favourite drink was on numerous occasions. For him, it was the perfect opportunity for revenge. I initially refused outright, but the persistent feeling of rawness creeping through my digestive tract urged me to reconsider. Finally I relented. Tye sprouted a mean-looking grin, then proceeded to pour me the Dr. Pepper.

As first I took only small sips, seriously concerned that I might vomit. To my surprise, however, it wasn't as bad as I remembered it. By the time the cup was one quarter empty, I was drinking it freely and trying to pretend that I was really hating it lest Tye think he had gotten the upper hand. Halfway through it I was somewhat dismayed to admit that I actually kind of liked it, and by the time it was gone I was willing to try it again. Things worked out in my favour because Tye was so intent on getting everyone else converted to his favourite drink that all I had to do was say "Gee Tye, maybe that crap you drink isn't so bad after all" and he would immediately offer to buy me one. Meanwhile I was secretly really starting to like the stuff, but it took Tye about a month to figure that out. By the end of the school year I was hooked, and I've never looked back.

The Dr. Pepper addiction followed me to university in Utah, then back home again. In a matter of months, I had eclipsed even Tye's affection for the stuff, and drank it constantly. My mother was concerned that I was drinking too much of it, which was probably true. Just to prove to her that I didn't have a problem, I stopped drinking it completely. Six months later, I started again. I just loved the taste of the stuff.

My mission was tough. Dr. Pepper was extremely rare in France, and extremely expensive when it could be found. Every time I located it, I would spend crazy amounts of money hoarding cans of it- to the tune of 15 Francs, or roughly $3.00 US per can. My return home was celebrated with a Dr. Pepper on the way home from the airport, and I have been drinking it ever since.

About a year ago, I was forced to make a choice. Working in a fairly sedentary job that demands long hours sitting in front of a computer, the sugar intake associated with drinking up to a litre of Dr. Pepper at work every day began to take a toll on my body. I had graduated from Big Gulps to 2-litre Double Gulps, and used to down between 3 and 6 of them in an average week. My once-impressive metabolism had finally met its match, and I began to gain weight. (yes, you're probably reading this going "um, yeah") Not a lot of weight, but enough that my mountain bike racer physique began to soften. As someone who had always been very physically fit, I didn't like that. It was time for a change, and the Dr. had to go.

There was only one option: Diet Dr. Pepper. There was only one problem: it was DIET Dr. Pepper. I hate diet pop, and have been very vocal about this for many years. I hate the aspartame, and the nasty aftertaste, and the whole idea of diet pop. To me, diet pop was an oxymoron. If you didn't want to drink pop and have all the crap that came with it, you should drink crystal light or something. Now I was flirting with crossing over to the dark side. I bought a bottle of DDP and sipped away at it for three days, unable to get used to the taste. A week later, I did it again. Finally, I realized that I had to take a stand. I went to Superstore and bought a 12-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper and put it in my fridge, forcing myself to either drink it or be consumed by guilt over the waste. Slowly, it began to disappear. I bought another 12-pack, and it disappeared as well. I began to notice the taste of the aspartame less and less, and to choose the diet version over the high-test whenever I had the option. Finally, at the end of the summer when I was on the road with the steam train, I was offered a can of regular Dr. Pepper. I could barely finish it. It tasted thick and syrupy, and sickly sweet; almost the way I remembered that first can tasting so many years ago. I had come full circle, and the conversion was complete.

I'm not even sure what it is about Dr. Pepper, diet or high-test, that I like so much. The key ingredient of the flavouring is apparently prune juice, but I've tried to drink prune juice before and lets just say it really doesn't agree with me. (I'll spare you the gory details) The Dr. Pepper, on the other hand, is still my favourite and most likely always will be. If you haven't tried it lately, I suggest you do....but be careful. It may not be your last.