Quitting Update 2: Vicks and Chips and Coke

It's been 27 hours and 25 minutes since my last cigarette (but who's counting?). I have a headache the like of which would make a lesser man cry. OK, I cried a little. I've popped all the baby drugs I can think of: Tylenol, Sudafed-lite (since you can't buy the real thing anymore), Aspirin. I've taken all the hot showers my skin can stand.

I broke out the first of the big guns this morning: Vicks Vapo-Rub. I've been huffing Vicks since about 8 a.m. It produces this weird non-high euphoria and only temporarily relieves my headache. But it gives the thrill of doing something very wrong without any of the potential consequences. It's a cheap high, in other words. But it's keeping me from reaching for the Hydrocodone and Klonopin. I have to stay alert to track my basketball picks and I'd zone out with the real pain killers.

I'm bingeing on Ripple Potato Chips and French Onion Dip. My rule when I quit smoking is that I can have anything I want in whatever quantity I want for the first 2 weeks. That's my pay-back for this first 72 hours of hell. I am also highly caffeinated, having decided that giving up two of the major food groups at once (nicotine and caffeine) is just not a nice thing to do to an aging body. The good people at Coca-Cola are my friends. Besides, a 2-liter was only 89 cents at the store today. It's as if God was TELLING me that the answer to quitting smoking was to drink more Coke. So I will. Who am I to argue with God over soft drinks?

I chose Coke over Pepsi in the early 70's. I have never regretted my decision. We were an RC Cola household: not only because RC was cheap and we were poor, but because RC Cola had pictures of the Kansas City Royals on the cans. I had an enormous pyramid of RC Cola cans in my room, along with rows of them on the window sill, across my desk, and around the baseboards. I went to sleep every night with George Brett, Jamie Quirk, Fred Patek, Cookie Rojas, Amos Otis, John Mayberry, Buck Martinez, and many others watching over me. RC was cool.

But when we went to Wayne & Marilyn's house, friends of my parents, Marilyn would always open one of those tall, greenish, glass bottles of Coke for us. The sound of the bottle opener against the glass is to this day one of the sweetest sensory memories I have. It fizzed an inappropriately long time. It's taste was more acidic by far than simple ol' RC Cola. This...this was what the rich folks drank. I was in love with Coca Cola. If I ever had all the money in the world, I'd tell myself, I would only drink Coca Cola. I don't have all the money in the world, obviously. But I only drink Coca Cola. OK, in a pinch, in one of those heretical Pepsi-Only joints, I will break down and have a Dr. Pepper. But that's it.

The good people at Coca Cola gave us the single most moving commercial ever around that same time: "I'd like to teach the world to sing..." they said. I believe to this day that they would have liked to teach the world to sing. Those are good people at Coca Cola. You might say, "Oh sure...You're an addict. Of course you love your dealer." Mayhaps. Nonetheless, I know which side my caffeinated bread is buttered on and I'll not but praise the good people at Coke. They do the Lord's work.

I feel better already. And we're only 27 hours and 44 minutes in.