Ow.  Ow ow.  I hurt in many different places in several different ways.  I'm sunburned and have little cuts all over my hands, sore muscles all over, and a bit of poison ivy as well.  Well, doesn't matter; I'm happy. 
    Last week I read in the paper that the Pleasant Plains Volunteer Fire Department in Tom's River was to have a chicken barbecue event.  We hadn't done a tasting at an event in a couple weeks, so I arranged for us to work this one.  Mike the Firefighter was all for it when I called, and went to great lengths to accommodate us, providing tables, some ice, and his own services as seller.
    You see, when we work these events, the way it goes is D&T donates some cases of soda to a charitable or non-profit organization, in this case the Fire Department, and they sell it for whatever price they want, pocketing the entire amount.  What we are there for is to pour up teeny cups for free sampling and to answer questions about the soda, to help people get comfy with the name and to urge them to ask their local grocers and convenience stores for Jones.  Some shop owners are hesitant to carry a new product until after people have already asked for it, so this part of the job is pretty important.
    Back to the chicken barbecue.  The Huz, kids, Misha, and I arrived ten minutes early for setup.  Mike greeted us warmly and showed us our spot where the tables were already set up, with chairs and all, in the shade right next to where the country-western band would be.  Unfortunately, that shade was to vanish with the morning.  The Condiman was supposed to meet me there at setup time, but the time just slid right by and I started to worry.  El Presidente arrived and did his PR thing, shook a lotta hands and, for want of a better word, shmoozed.  An hour and a half past setup time, Condiman and Dearheart showed up, suffering from the heat, having been firmly wedged in traffic in an un-air-conditioned van for the last few hours.  We all went into motion, getting out the soda and icing the coolers and setting up the banners.
    People were wanting soda already, even before they were cold, but we got them iced down pretty fast and were soon too busy to think.  All day were poured samples and fetched bottles for Mike to sell, and sometimes Mike did the pouring.  It was a madhouse behind the tables, because the soda was moving almost faster than we could ice down their replacements.  With so many hands in the coolers, Dearheart's super efficient system got thoroughly hosed over and over again, which irritated me cuz when you stick to the system, it's just so damn easy to find a cold soda of the proper flavor fast.  Three coolers, four flavors per cooler.  The display bottles get lined up on the table, and you put the coolers under the table, each under the four flavors it represents.  Well except for one; it's a barrel cooler and won't fit under the table.
    The guys were pretty ingenious about pre-cooling the sodas though, by sticking some cases in the beer wagon and some in the big fridge in the firehouse.
    At one point a bottle of Vanilla Cola got broken in a cooler.  The pieces were big, so the Condiman and I thought we got em all, but as the sampling went on, I developed lots of minute cuts all over my hands, only one of which needed a bandaid.  El Presidente dumped the cooler and replaced the ice.
    I got redder and redder, as I couldn't find the sunscreen that used to be in my briefcase.  C3PO was starting to get red on the cheeks too.  Their dad took them every so often to play on the structures provided and to see the petting zoo and things like that, and sometimes he worked the booth with us.  Toward the end of the day, while I was off with C3PO riding an ancient fire engine, the Huz had a glass experience of his own.  I returned to find him being bandaged by one of the firefighters.  A bottle of Fufu Berry had exploded, lodging shards of glass in his face and arms.  Only a cut on his finger was enough to warrant a bandage; the rest of the slivers came out easily and bloodless.  Apparently the bottle was a victim of rough handling, having been transferred between the coolers several times.  I don't want anyone thinking our sodas are dangerous cuz they're not.  Ya just gotta be careful with glass bottles is all.
    The fire engine ride was pretty tame but still fun.  Some kids got to sit in front with the firefighter, and a whole bunch of people sat in the back where the hoses would have gone.  A kid in the front got to ring the bell, and every now and then the firefighter hit the siren.  We didn't go very fast, but we took a loop through the neighborhood and waved at kids on bikes.  The breeze was really refreshing and shade covered most of the route, so I was happy.
    Round about six or so we started packing up to go.  I was thoroughly roasted, the kids hadn't had a nap, and Condiman, I think, had a function to be at last night, a wedding or something.
    When we got home, I nuked some hot dogs and then collapsed into the bed, not to stir again until morning.
    Today we are going to watch the shooting of our first TV commercial.  Will tell you all about that.
 

 
 
Tales from the Field 

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Except for today.  Since the whole main column is a big tale from the field, who needs soda tales over here??!!