An Evening of Americana

After much anticipation, my friends and I began going through my American treats. The Starbucks mugs were an instant hit, though I’m not sure my friends actually understand they’re made to serve a purpose. Still, the novelty of the item seems to please them thoroughly. The Reese’s peanut butter cups were also met with approval. I brought them to explain why I named my orange cat Reese and to show my friends one of the many wonderful uses for peanut butter in the United States. Although I’m generally a health food junkie and don’t like soda, root beer is an exception. However, I’ve discovered that this is one of the only ways in which the European diet lets me down: root beer is not sold on this continent. Unable to resist the thought of a root beer float with real Italian vanilla gelato, I had to bring some soda back with me. Curious, my friends agreed to try it. They were forewarned that root beer might be an acquired taste. (I also brought some cream soda as an emergency back up, as this is another exclusively American soda but has a more generic, sweet taste.) They were not nearly as pleased with the root beer as I was, but interestingly enough, they all felt like they’d tasted it before. As the three Sicilians sat around the table, they sipped the beverage and threw out guesses as to what flavor it might have. They pretty quickly honed in on the medicine cabinet, but still couldn’t quite put their finger on it. Bemused, I eventually offered a suggestion I’d heard from another European I knew who’d recently tried root beer for the first time. That did the trick and pretty quickly, they figured it out. Apparently there’s some sort of mouthwash sold in Italy which tastes just like root beer. It’s too bad for them that the taste has been spoiled by a dental hygiene product, but personally I’m looking forward to figuring out just where I can purchase this mouthwash! After we’d finished off the dessert, we shared some children’s games with each other and somehow, one thing led to another and we stumbled across the perfect ritual for our fraternity. So we dimmed the lights, set the stage, and began our Pi Delta Pi initiation. Now it’s official: I have a real Italian (Greek) family.