Brisk Iced Tea from a Vending Machine

When I lived in an apartment in this big 'ol complex, I used to scooter around the grounds on my Razor brand scooter (yeah, the one everyone used to joke about hitting their ankles with). There weren't a lot of kids in the complex who went out, so I was often just by myself, cruising the cement pavements behind locked gates. In fact, the frequency of other tenants walking around was so few (I have no recollection of ever seeing anyone when I was out and about) that I'm not even sure if the other apartments actually had people living in them. I never saw people coming in and out of their apartments -- only that they were already where they wanted to reside, usually at the swimming pool. Even then, their numbers were always quite few.

The landscaping for the courtyard was kind of fascinating. There were three main sections where I usually perused: swimming area (which lay right in front of the apartments where I lived), courtyard (which had a brief connecting path from the swimming area), and the front gate (connecting at the direct opposite side of the swimming area). It was a general downward slope from the courtyard-swimming area side to the front gate, full of connecting cement paths that sloped then flattened, staggering the slide to the front. Additionally, there were rectangular sections where plant-life were placed, giving the area an overall top-down view of a checkerboard of sorts, or a lattice weave, mayhaps.

I would ride around these slopes and sections for who-knows-how-long. It brought me entertainment. Riding around in a straight narrow path was not enough nor was a blanket slate of cement. These slopes added novelty. I could climb and I could fall and I could lead myself into the other parts of the lattice and play with my momentum.

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Anyway, here's the stuff related to the topic at hand: there was also one section a bit off-center but placed in the general center nonetheless in the courtyard where it represented a cooling/resting spot. It was made of that weird, painted-over wood and brick that makes you wonder whether it's actually made of wood and brick because of how artificial the surface of it looks. It had some roofing as well to provide shade, but the most important aspect of it were the two vending machines it housed.

It was probably one of my first ever experiences being exposed to a vending machine since immigrating to America. It hummed and it was surrounded by a cage to prevent idk some thievery of sorts?? Every day that I passed by it, I would gaze upon it and its selection of beverages. For most days, that was it. I was a child with no money. I could not bring it upon myself to request for a few dollars to spend it on something that seemed so frivolous, especially when any amount of money that I asked for felt like the most. I could not handle idea of the weight and guilt.

One evening, however, I happened to have money and worked up the desire to get something from the vending machine after endless times of believing that whatever it had to offer would never be worth it. I inserted the bill, made a guess for a drink and pressed its slot based on aesthetic alone, and heard the can plop into the dispenser.

I bought a can of Brisk Iced Tea. Its blue and yellow artwork mesmerized me. It was one of the first times I ever spent money all by my lonesome. I remember how utterly cold the can was and wondered how it kept cool underneath all that humming. I remember how chilling and sharp it felt in my mouth when I first drank it. It's a feeling that has never left me since, and it's a feeling that comes back whenever I'm reminded of Brisk Iced Tea.

I'm also still deeply fascinated by vending machines and their buttons. Beautiful little towers, they are.