Descend into the Maelstrom

On Friday night, I was waiting for a friend at the entrance to Ultra New York, a large gathering of DJs in Central Park’s Summerstage such as Danny Tenaglia, Paul Oakenfold, Chemical Bros., etc.   I was enjoying a cold beer.  Suddenly a distant taste association entered my head- a flavor I had only experienced once, many years ago.  The memory of gripe water was so powerful, it was as if the beer was actually gripe water as I swirled it around in my mouth.

It was 1987.  My sister and I were playing with my 6-month old cousin in a mall while my aunt shopped.  We were holding onto some of my cousin’s gripe water.  In case you don’t know, gripe water is a pleasant, minty-sweet clear drink with a small trace of alchohol.  It’s given to babies so that they’ll chill out a bit.  It was in a little bottle, with a cute baby boy on the label; my sister and I helped ourselves to small sprinkles of it.  I loved it instantly, but never had any ever again.

Why is the episode on Friday night worth mentioning in a post?  I think it brings up bigger questions.  I am always interested in probing the bigger questions.

1) Where the heck did the memory come from?  I know our brain stores millions of memories in some sort of hard drive.  But why did it come forth at that very moment?  It couldn’t be the techno music because I’m pretty sure that the mall we were hanging out at in 1987 wasn’t playing techno.  I’ve heard that music, smells, tastes, etc. can prompt a memory.  But what could prompt a memory of a taste itself?  Perhaps another taste, but this would be strange because Budweiser’s flavor, color, and texture has no resemblance whatsoever to gripe water (it’s not carbonated), except maybe the alcoholic content.  One would think that a Bud would have reminded me of another time I had a Bud, or at least a beer of some sort.  But no.

2) Why didn’t I attempt to procure gripe water in the last 18 years?  This is the kicker.  If I remembered gripe water for all this time, and thought it was good, and could have bought it at pretty much any time I really wanted to, why didn’t I?  It’s not cheap, at something like $10 for a little bottle, but that’s still less than a movie in New York.  I know I’ve had the gripe water memory periodically over the last 18 years.

2a) Why don’t I go out and buy some gripe water right now?  I think I will.  It makes sense.  I’m on a mission now.  I hope it tastes as good as I remember it.  But a disturbing thought follows: why am I singling out this particular Friday night memory as the one that pushed me toward buying gripe water?  How could advertising agencies take advantage of all this?

3) Lest you think this is all useless babble, I’m sure it happens to you too.  Maybe it’s not gripe water.  Maybe it’s not even a taste.  You could be strolling down the street one day, and suddenly think of that time you got a wedgie in fourth grade in the locker room after Gym.  Maybe you’ll even feel it.

In conclusion, don’t be alarmed if you see me carrying a flask of good ol’ gripe to the soiree.  I won’t be alarmed if you attempt to take liberties with my flask.  Or if you contort your face as if you were in excruciating pain from that fourth-grade memory.