188 words about Gatorade Frost

A riptide rush of epistemological thirst

No matter how many times the grocery store beverages aisle has beckoned and I’ve veered into it anticipating some future ailment, I inevitably end up staring down the same set of Gatorade bottles. I’ve read the (surprisingly thorough) FAQ outlining when I should drink Thirst Quencher versus G2 or Zero; I’ve seen the brand explain Fierce is bold and intense flavor, Flow is fuller flavor with smooth finish, and Frost is light, cool, crisp; I’ve restored myself with Glacier Cherries and Cascade Crashes. But where’s the oral history of the meeting that decided the people would be quenched by an inscrutable Arctic Blitz? What is Cool Blue supposed to taste like, Picasso? Maggie Nelson, Steve Aoki? There are no tangible fruits in the ingredients; they may just as well have told the FDA “legal sports improvement stuff, blue #40” and called it a day. How did we get here? What I long for, standing alone before a wall of Frost, is to know the origin of the universe, riddle of Gatorade and God before the first day alike: What is it that may yet be in me?