Your Friend Who Gets Excited at the New Celsius Flavors Just Got a Salad at West Dining Hall (Bro, just get the Pizza)

Article by: Robbie | Photo by: Grace W

ALLSTON MA – Sometimes you wake up in the morning to the dulcet tone of birds chirping. Sometimes you wake up to the sounds of kitchen noises, maybe breakfast being prepared, eggs frying, or bacon sizzling. Sometimes you wake up to the thumping of rain, signaling a cloudy, but relaxing day ahead of you. 

But here’s how you woke up yesterday:

“Yoooo Rob! Celsius just dropped the new Cosmic Vibe flavor.”  The door slammed shut, and The Intruder had exited. The Intruder didn’t even bother to wait for you to open your eyes. He was so confident in his ability to awaken you from your slumber, that he didn’t need a physical indicator. He knew his tone and comment would pierce through any dwindling amounts of REM you had, and that he would have succeeded in his goal: to inform you that Celsius just dropped the new “Cosmic Vibe” flavor.

The Intruder sips on his Celsius at the library. He sips on his Celsius on the T. He sips on his Celsius as he jots down notes. He sees you come back from CitiCo with an iced coffee, and again, he sips on his Celsius. Sometimes you might ask him, “How much caffeine is in a Celsius?” He doesn’t respond, only smittenly grins. You know that no matter the number, it isn’t enough for him. This is not the last Celsius he will sip on today. 

But The Intruder is driven. He has work to do. He has internships to apply to. He has meetings to join on zoom. And he has weights to lift at FitRec. Sometimes, you and The Intruder will go to the dining hall together. Sometimes, you will pass the pizza station. You will grab a slice, and offer him one. Suddenly, he’ll respond: 

“I can’t, I’m cutting.” 

Buzzzzz. You hear a ringing tone. You feel dizzy. Preposterous. He’s cutting? He’ll cut what? Carbs? Sugar? Dey board? You refuse to believe it, so you press him. “I saw you drink multiple Celsii yesterday!”

“It has zero sugar.”

You fall to your knees. It can’t be true. Surely, God wouldn’t allow for such a monstrosity of nature. Surely, the cosmic divine wouldn’t allow for… Cosmic Vibe. 

He takes his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it, reaching inside. He brings out a Celsius and cracks it open. Click. You hear the crisp unlatching of the can. He brings it up to his mouth, hesitates, grins, and then crouches down. He passes the drink to you. And you take a sip. 

You close your eyes: It tastes like the sound of birds chirping in the morning.