Deftly opening the bright orange cap, shaped like the nozzle on a tank of nitrous oxide, a dangerous hiss escaped from the tight confines within. Clearly, there was something inside that wanted, needed, to get out. A light aroma of passionfruit and other fruits wafted towards me, when a sudden undertone of bitterness forced its way through the fruity cloud and rammed its way into my sinuses. When you can smell the caffeine in a drink, you know you're dealing with something not of this world.
Taking the first sip of this dangerous drink was actually surprisingly pleasant, containing the qualities of a simple tropical punch with a nice amount of carbonation. There was a slight bitter aftertaste, but this wasn't bad, and was actually quite ignorable. Within a few minutes I noticed that the black fog of sleep deprivation that hung around me was lifting, pulling me out of the stupor I was in - and I'd not yet drunk a fifth of the bottle.
Hefting the celestial bottle of my newfound love again and again to my lips, the cool liquid sliding pleasantly down my throat, a strange sensation kicked in. Sunlight began to seem brighter, my actions more animated and even my speech began to speed up ever so slightly; I thought nothing of these things, and kept drinking. Passing the halfway point in the bottle seemed to have given me a floaty walk, buzzing down Vegas' Strip with nary a care in the world. However, good things are not meant to last for long.
I had reached the last sixth of the bottle, with only the dregs remaining. As I sipped the brew it became increasingly bitter, rising to a crescendo of caffeine and a climax of taurine that fused together violently within the knot of my stomach, forcing its way through my nervous system and pummelling its way into the dark recesses of my brain. My eyes seemed unable to remain focused on one object for any length of time; instead roaming around in front of me with all the restraint of a ten year old brat in a candy store.
The limbs attached to my torso that had for so long remained steadfastly loyal to my brain's commands decided to rebel and run at a speed that they had set, powering me along at a rate that could only be described as recklessly fast, without any sign of letting me slow down for fear that the ground might catch them. My heart, that for years had studiously pumped my blood around reliably, promptly went on vacation and left a hyperactive chimpanzee drummer in its place, thrashing along to some heavy metal with the occasional death solo.
A small voice began to muse the possibility that perhaps this was not the best choice I'd ever made, reasoning that the restrictions placed upon energy drinks were probably there for a good reason and that I'd had a little too much - but this teensy voice was soon squashed underneath the heel of the drink, and promptly forgotten. I'd reached a higher plane of existence, one where every detail was observed, recorded and stored, erasing precious childhood memories to force NOS-tainted ones in their place.
The effects of the drink lasted long after I had drained the last drops from the bottle, fuelling me through five hours of roaming around Vegas and running me in a similar manner as a kamikaze pilot. When it finally subsided, I was left alive at the end, though a burnt shell of my former self. For a price of US$3.99, this was perhaps the cheapest way to experience something reckless in Vegas - but I wouldn't recommend drinking it all at one go. Check out the gallery of pics to see more of the bottle, and keep your eyes peeled if ever you're in America for this exhilaratingly powerful drink.
Issue: 133 | February, 2012