It was the sunniest day of my life; my makeup was running and my hair in ruin. I was just done with one of my energy sapping marketing rounds and the sun in Oshodi seemed to have come from somewhere extra-terrestrial on that day. It was as though the gates of hell were especially let loose, a layer above my head. I was profusely sweating, and lord was I disgusted at myself. On days like that I’d give anything to avoid running into someone I know.
I was slowly getting dehydrated, my tongue drying off and my body turning to a spring of sweat – all I could think of was the bottles of La Casera in my mum’s fridge, those same ones I always took for granted. I was definitely homesick. I was down to my last kobo, the N100 left to transport myself home. I could either get something to drink or get home. I chose the latter. I could muster the thirst I thought.
Quickly I hastened my pace and in no time I was by the road side with everyone else waiting for the Mile 2 bus. We were definitely going to fight our way into the bus – a survival of the fittest of some sort, and on this day, I was nothing close to fit. A fly could have easily taken a seat over me.
Standing there absent mindedly, I saw what looked like my dream man. Tall, dark and handsome. He was wearing a carton coloured chinos, loosely fitting his long muscular legs; he was wearing a black properly polished shoe. It was as if he hadn’t stepped a foot all day. His shirt, form fitting and stripped. He was simply perfect. Quickly I got back to my senses; I was in no place to meet such a clean fine man when I looked the exact opposite.
A few minutes later I was distracted by a La Casera hawker who clearly held life on her head. I needed some of it, I was desperate for it. And she was hawking it for a paltry N100. An amount so little, yet I hadn’t. I could have literally begged the lady for it, but for Mr Perfect. I didn’t know him, but I couldn’t afford falling my hands in his presence.
Seconds later, Mr Perfect was hailing that same hawker and then I thought to myself “Elizabeth, Life or shame”? “A life saving bottle of La Casera or saving face because of a stranger that I’ll probably never see again”. Lol, I’d never wanted a La Casera apple drink so badly.
Before the lady could leave his side I quickly went beside him and asked if he would mind buying an extra for me. He was shocked, as I would have been. He smiled, revealing a cute little dimple as he asked the girl to hand me one.
I don’t know if you’ve ever wanted something so bad or had to hold a chilled La Casera drink after lusting over it for almost an entire day. I held on to it, reluctantly but firmly, twisting the cap to the sounding gush of apple rush, it was the most beautiful La Casera bottle that I’d ever seen, tilting my head backwards, I began gulping it in. The taste – I still recall: It was super cold with that same unmistakable Apple Bite, and the more I drank out of the ice-feel bottle, the more I had chills run through my spine. My entire system chilled to about 15 degrees. It was as if I was given yet another life with a more refreshing outlook.
My day could have ended up on an entirely different note, but all thanks to the kind gentleman and that life saving La Casera Apple Drink, it didn’t. On that same day, I met Mr. Perfect and fell in love…not the man, but the drink. I fell in love with La Casera who turned out to be my reliable Mr Perfect. That same day heralded the beginning of a lifetime of love affair between myself and my La Casera, a working and loving relationship.
This is my La Casera story, what’s yours?