Rosca's Ramblings

Rosca’s Ramblings: How to Chill a Bottle of Coca-Cola When a Refrigerator Isn’t Available

Courtesy of Emily RoscaEmily Rosca reunites with her best friend in Colorado over spring break. The two visited Horsetooth Reservoir in the Rocky Mountains outside Fort Collins.

Spring Break isn’t a time for productivity. At least not in my book. Or rather, not in terms of school. 

I’m reflecting over this past week, as us students are taught to do at a Jesuit university, right? Well, I’m realizing I had a rather productive week and one I’m going to remember and call-on in memories forever. Oh, the sappiness. 

My best friend goes to school in Fort Collins, Colorado — the most ideal place for her to study since she loves all things mountain and country — and ever since she started school I’ve wanted to visit her. We finally made that happen in the best fashion: road trip one way, fly the other. 

Two of my favorite things in this world — besides kombucha and kefir — are airports and road trips. I have this deep-rooted love for O’Hare Airport so much so I wrote my college essay on the topic. I’ve spent a significant amount of times in various airports but never in vain because even waiting in line for security excited me. The presence of travelers — both business people and vacationers — bustling around, frantically grabbing bins while balancing on one leg removing a shoe inspires me. One of my many talents is being able to multitask grabbing a grey bin and taking off my sneaker. 

I drove out with one of my dear friends who flew back to grab his car and trek back to his college home in California. Driving with him and a couple of his buddies, I rolled out early and let them continue on their merry way. 

In a matter of 14 hours we stopped about 10 times, sometimes to eat, sometimes for gas. Of those many pit stops, my favorite was a gas station called Kum & Go. I’ll just let that simmer, but know I left that gas station as innocent as I went in. 

Colorado is the land of country music, cowboy boots and tendencies for unapologetical belching.  While I forgot the boots, I was able to dance around to Amarillo by Morning. There’s something about country music filling the mountain air. But, I couldn’t live there because I function best among larger crowds and kefir shops in more than one location. 

I don’t listen to country music. That’s a known fact. But there’s one human I’ll make an exception for. It’s that same human who can also get me to go country dancing and wear skinny, non-ripped jeans. I can also say I now know how to two-step and swing dance, thanks to those cool people I met on the dance floor. 

I’ll admit, much to my own chagrin, I enjoyed listening to Luke Bryan, Kenny Chesney and Willie Nelson. I immersed myself in this Colorado lifestyle with my friends and I didn’t want to come home. 

And with the country living comes country men. One of these men, with whom you can fall in love with via the dating app Hinge, writes alt-country music which might just make you smitten. It didn’t cut it for me.  

I woke up one morning and as my eyes were adjusting to the bright, morning sun, I noticed fishing line tied around a bed post that led to the window. Still dazed, I made my way to the window and realized we tied a bottle of Coca-Cola to fishing line and dangled it out the window to chill it because I guess the refrigerator couldn’t do the job. Try it — the story is worth it. 

While Coca-Cola on a string might not seem productive (in a wholesome way) to the overall trip, I won’t forget that adventure anytime soon. 

Arguably the most productive moment I had during my trip was the order I placed on a Time Out Magazine with Timothée Chalamet on the cover. It’s this clementine orange cover with Timmy’s clear-as-day blue eyes gracing the cover. My mailbox will be in for a treat as soon as that magazine arrives. 

There’s this fantastic used bookstore in Fort Collins called Bizarre Bazaar, where my friends and I spent significant hours in, roaming the messily organized shelves stuffed with pre-loved books, vintage magazine clippings and records of any and all kinds of music. 

The candy store of my dreams, Rocket Fizz, rests a 10-minute drive away from the bookstore and not buying pounds of Pixy Stix, Zotz and Warheads: Extreme Sour was a challenge. You know the scene in “Broad City” where an inebriated Abbi and Ilana stand dumbfounded yet amazed in a candy store? That was me, but sober. 

My friends over there became my tour guides and roommates, and I loved spending most waking minutes with them. Thank you, CJ, for being the greatest human and for all those meal swipes that allowed me to eat curly french fries every day for a week.

For those of you not yet convinced, there’s one decent country song out there. Listen to Luke Bryan’s “Kick The Dust Up” and tell me you’re not bopping your head while you jump out of your seat on the shuttle as you run over potholes on Lake Shore Drive. 

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