And now I am one of the Great Unwashed.

This weekend found me in the super-duper place that is loosely known as Hotlanta.

It also found me in the company of herds and herds of people making their way through The World of Coca-Cola. I couldn’t help it. Maxim neglected to buy tickets to the gol-dang aquarium, EVEN THOUGH I requested advance purchase politely. Erm, TWICE. When we got there on Sunday, just as we were circling the block in search of the entrance to the parking garage, an aquarium employee drug out the ALL TICKETS SOLD OUT, YOU HAVE ONCE AGAIN FAILED YOUR CHILDREN sign.

I wanted to yell dirty words, but all the Superior chirrens were in the Magic Stealth Vehicle with us and it was Sunday. Sunday in the very heart of the South, even if it has become a sort of watered-down generic version of a Grand Southerin City, God rest Margaret Mitchell’s soul. Everyone knows that you cannot possibly shout sweary words on Sunday in the bible belt. You merely mutter them indecipherably under your breath.

Nosiree, I did not shout the words o’ swear. In fact, I remained quite calm and did not even say ‘I told you so, fuckarooni’ to the man I love the very most in the whole vast and wide world, even though it is in my horrible, horrible nature to do so. Yep, I remained quite calm. However, Mathias had to be informed of the day’s tragic turn of events; the very minute his lip started to quiver and his big seven-year-old eyes went all pooly, I panicked. After he forlornly asked, “No shaaaarks?” I fell all over myself convincing him that there would be BIG FUN THINGS and SEE, THERE’S NO NEED TO CRY. The minute shit got dodgy I caved: I blurted that yes, oh yessss, we would go back to the place with the big revolving Co-Cola sign threaded with enough neon to light five or six roller rinks or about eight-hundred liquor store signs.

I have sinned against mine Pepsi-Cola. Judas Popscariot, I am She. May the Lord who lays the Dew have mercy on me.

It might have been not-so-bad to endure being saturated in Co-Colaness, but there was this cheer thing going on which we were blissfully unaware of until we stumbled into the den of cola iniquity. The cheerleaders themselves weren’t so bad, I guess; they were mostly little and we Superiors could’ve taken on four squads at once, easy. It was the moms that were hellish, with their vicarious living and their pushy-assed sense of entitlement.

Dear Cheerleader Moms,

Next time I will eat your face.

Thanks,

Jett “B-A-N-A-N-A-S” Superior

pee ess, stop putting so fucking much blue eyeshadow on your overpermed babywhores. You freak out those of us who aspire to be normal parents.

Every last little thing was a photo op for them, and there were a million little Brittneys and Ashlees scrambling around, convinced to the soul of their spunky cuteness. There were hundreds of other people there, and the cheerleader spawn along with their putrid also-overpermed robot mothers did not mind in the very least holding up the progress of those hundreds.

By the time we reached the ‘Sodas Of The World’ fountain thingy, I was so consumed with annoyance that I sampled COKE PRODUCTS. Oh, the horror. The very notion!

Giddy with my transgression, I followed the fam down to the gift shop stuffed to the brim with ridiculously-priced Co-Cola logos. They embellished things like tiny plastic keychains and large wooden tables and stuffed Polar bears with sweet red scarves and the softest little plushy ass you’ve ever laid hands on. When our own Mathias picked the mid-sized, twenty-eight dollar bear and his father began to let a ‘no’ flop out of his mouth, I deftly stepped to his side, leaned in and said quietly, “You nearly made him cryyyy with the aquarium thing.” Amazingly enough, the spendthrifty Maxim whipped out his most hearty, “SURE, son!” This was followed shortly by his wallet.

Normally I don’t beat members of my own team with the guiltbat, but the world of Co-Cola was waaay cheaper and shoddier than the Georgia Aquarium, so the kid deserved the fucking bear. Amen and amen.

I have got to find a way to visit the birthplace of Pepsi. I must bring balance to the Force.