Last night I gave into temptation, and ordered some fast food on my way home. I ordered my food, and opted for a root beer as my cola of choice. That first sip instantly reminded me of all the family vacations we spent at Seaside Heights in New Jersy (long before it became synonymous with guidos and fist pumping).
My family and I would stay at a little motel right at the very end of the boardwalk. Right underneath the motel, rested on the boardwalk, was an arcade and a Stewarts shop; not the Stewarts shops that are around here where you buy milk and ice cream. This Stewarts sold food and most importantly, root beer.
We would all go down to the beach, set up our spot, and play in the sand and surf all day. At some point during the day, my Dad would give me money and say, “Take your brother and sister and go get a root beer.” So, with Jim and Jen in tow, we would walk up the hot sand to the board walk, go to the counter, and order my Dad a diet root beer in one of their signature orange plastic mugs. Then, we would all sneak a sip, and walk back to the umbrella and blanket.
To this day, when ever I drink root beer, all I can think of is our family vacations. Weird how even food and drinks can trigger memories.