Unchanged since its founding in 1985, located in Glendale, WI, with around 51-200 employees (Sprecher Brewery | LinkedIn), honey is poured into a vat with root beer mix and yeast, where it is concealed and fermented. An enormous kettle is filled with water, vanilla, and botanicals steamed over an excruciating hot flame. The ingredients simmer under the flame for hours, slowly caramelizing into its final product  (Tanzilo Brewed with fire: Sprecher root beer). A silky, smooth, creamy soda. Moving down a conveyor belt at lightning speed, being injected into a glass bottle, awaits a child's favorite treat. 

That’s where I come in. I ran around, creating walls of energy, as a 10 year old boy. I begged my parents for another soda as they looked at each other hoping I would just fall asleep. Everyday drinking the same old water. Opened the top left cabinet, pulled a chair to reach for my favorite glass, turned on the sink and filled the cup. Rinse, and repeat. Literally. Dreaming of the day I could be one of the gigantically tall people who can drink whatever they would like. 

On a Saturday for lunch in the month of June, my family invited all of my friends and family over for my 10th birthday party. You might think that a 10th birthday isn’t a big deal, but c’mon, you only hit double digits once right? Well if you're not excited, I was. I treated it like I was leaving for college. Like everything would change. I mean… It somewhat did.

When I asked my parents if I had one soda, they responded with, “Your double digits now kid, you don’t gotta ask.”

It felt like I just won the lottery. My questions felt like the wrapper covering the golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. As if I was Charlie, about to own a factory of soda. Imagining it in my head, I hear a voice shout, “Well son are you gonna go get it,” snapping me out of my daydream. I began to sprint to the cooler. I dunk my hand into the frigid water picking my poison. I lift up an ice cold classic root beer. My mouth instantly starts to water, wanting to swallow it in one single gulp, I have enough self control to know that it would hurt my stomach.

My dad grabbed the root beer from my mini hand and showed me how to crack them open. He shows me what he likes to call the “Rock Method.” He bends down and slams it against the rock, popping the cap off. As he was explaining to me what to do, I became mesmerized by the smoke slowly oozing out of the roof of the bottle causing spontaneous mouth watering. I grabbed the soda and took my first sip. It was heaven on earth. But if I were my parents, that would be my biggest regret.

Flashforward three hours, I was down around 10 sodas. Ranging from all types of flavors such as; Cherry, Grape, Cream, Orange Dream, Puma Cola. I think I was so intrigued by the idea of not asking than drinking the actual soda. But how could I stop? Sprecher was the best thing I had ever had. Until something came upon me.

I slowly waddled over to my Dad, hunched over holding my stomach. I say, “Dad, I drank too much Soda. I think I have a tummy ache.”

At the end of the day, it was my 10th birthday party. Was the tummy ache worth it? Of course it was, it was caused by the delicious Sprecher Root Beer!