The Why Files: Pickle in a Bag
For the true warrior, the reward often lies in the challenge. Why climb Everest? Because it’s there. Why watch a five-hour marathon of “Roseanne”? Because I CAN.
These challenges test our very moral fiber. They crop up when we least expect them; hurling a wrench into our robotic daily lives and forcing us to stare Fate straight in her squinty little eye. So when I spied a rack of Van Holten’s “Sour Pickles” in my local convenience store, I knew I had to step up to the plate. It was do or die.
The snack is simple enough. It’s a single pickle, bobbing up and down in an amniotic sac of yellowish brine water, tempting you with its tangy goodness. Upon seeing it, my mind immediately filled with images of medical specimens. Suddenly, I was transported to the laboratory of a mad scientist circa 1890, and everywhere I looked, unsavory experiments floated in dusty glass jars.
Not an appetizing thought, but certainly a motivating one. Any snack that inspires that amount of imagination in a convenience store deserves a try.
And yet, five days after purchasing the pickle, it still sat sullenly on my kitchen table. I just couldn’t bring myself to open the package. With each passing glance, I became more convinced that I wasn’t looking at a pickle, but at human waste that some misguided entrepreneur had poured into a Zip-lock bag. Yeah, I know. Ew.
Finally, I decided to stop wussing out and threw the thing in my purse, determined to eat it while at work. Today was my last day at a soul-crushing, paper-pushing clerical job, and eating a Sour Pickle at my Desk of Shame just seemed appropriate.
What I hadn’t counted on (and you pickle veterans will shake your head at this) was the smell. Oh man, the smell. As soon as I tore open the plastic packaging, a waft of putrid odor hit my nostrils. It smelled like the last fart of a dying cat. (A cat that had been very, very ill for a number of months. A cat whose insides were so toxic that the pet cemetery refused to bury it, as they feared it might contaminate the drinking water.)
Terrified that one of my coworkers might faint, I ran to the bathroom, poured the brine down the drain, and sealed the package with Scotch tape. Sure, I hated my job, but it was still a professional setting. Last day or not, I owed it to my fellow wage slaves not to induce vomiting throughout the office.
So here I am, sitting near the window on a Peter Pan bus, a mummified pickle resting in my lap. I’m headed home, to the scenic hills of the Berkshires, and I’m pretty sure if I don’t do this now, it’s never going to happen. It’s not fight or flight; it’s flight or bite. BRING IT ON, YOU PICKLED PUNK!
Oh God.
Bite One: It burns! The pickle is so sour that it’s burning my esophagus. Ahhh, what is wrong with me? Why am I eating this?
Bite Two: Not only have my gums begun to tingle, but as soon as I closed my mouth around the pickle, a spurt of juice fired into the back of my throat. Gross. The texture is smooth and slimy - typical pickle fare.
Bite Three: I’ll be honest. This bite was a nibble at best, since this snack has me jonesing for a bucket of mouthwash. By now the whole bus smells faintly of a dirty sea captain, thanks to the leftover brine I spilled on the floor (perhaps eating this in an enclosed space was a mistake?). The outside of the pickle is super pruney and pockmarked – it’s looks like the forefinger of the Jolly Green Giant after he’s been in the sauna for too long.
Bite Four: Saved! Saved by gravity! As I was writing this, the bus jerked forward, propelling the pickle off the seat next to me and onto the floor below. You can’t expect me to eat something that’s been rolling around on the floor of a major bus line, can you? No way! I’m free! Free at last! WUAHAHAHAHA!
All right, so maybe that’s a cop out. But hey, sometimes when a challenge makes you gag, the reward lies in chucking it in the trash.
8 Comments
Linda on September 2nd, 2008
You’re a better person that I am. For several of jobs I’ve left, I am
heartbroken to discover that I missed the chance
to eat a pickle on the last day and leave the bag of brine somewhere
difficult to find…
Diana on September 2nd, 2008
Haha, great article! I’ve seen these in the store before and wonder why anyone could buy one….They just look so yucky! And slimy. And smelly.
Erik on September 7th, 2008
Haha, I bought one of these today. Right now it’s sitting in my car and it will no doubt be a few days before I build up the courage to open it. At least now I know what to expect. Thankss,
Snackerrific :: » Snack Review: Durian Cream Roll Soft Cake on September 15th, 2008
[...] admit an ulterior motive: ever since Alissa found the guts to try Van Holton’s uber-sickening Pickle-in-a-bag, I’ve harbored a secret yen to try something equally disgusting - or more so! I’ve [...]
Snackerrific :: » Top 10 Gas Station Snacks on October 3rd, 2008
[...] 9. PICKLE IN A BAG [...]
Mustangboy95 on June 3rd, 2009
I love those pickles, I usually eat one a day. I even pour the juice in a cup and drink it. Picle in a bag is probably my favorite alltime snack!
Nate on June 30th, 2009
Hi.
You don’t know me, but I ran across your picked blog entry and thought I’d share a recent personal story.
Sunday, May 17, 2009: a couple of friends and I (in a very 1980’s mood), decided to drive to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina to see a Queensrÿche show.
On the way, we came to the world-famous tourist trap South of the Border, near Dillon, South Carolina, where we stopped for a convenience store run.
While inside, we saw box after box after box of Van Holten’s pickles(s) in a bag(s).
These were not the same as the ones in your blog because each of these bags was adorned with cartoon artwork of a smiling, anthropomorphized pickle dressed to resemble either a pimp or a prostitute (depending on the character’s gender, I suppose).
Google it if you don’t believe me.
Anyhow.
I love those pickles and count them as quintessential road trip food.
But one of the guys with whom I was traveling hates them much more passionately than I love them.
So as a compromise, I purchased two of them:
Outside, in the South of the Border parking lot, I opened one of the pickles, tossed it under the front tire of my vehicle and backed over it as slowly as possible (throwing the bag with the pickle-hooker art into a garbage receptacle nearby).
At about 1:00 A.M. later that day (or early the next morning; whatever), we stopped back by after the show to check on progress. It had been a cold, drenching rainy day, and the football-sized moist green squish was now covered with tire treads from other South of the Border customers. So I got out of my vehicle, opened the second pickle, dumped its juice out onto the first (”reanimating” it, my road trip buddies claimed), and then ate the second pickle during the remainder of my trip back home while the others slept.
It was delicious.
All of the above was documented photographically.
Feel free to check it out:
http://picasaweb.google.com/wchildres/QueensrycheHotMamaExtravaganza?authkey=Gv1sRgCObGhdzis5DinAE&feat=directlink#
Thanks for the blog story — it was a hoot.
–N
Jim on September 2nd, 2008
That was hilarious! I’ve never ever ever been brave enough to buy one of those, much less actually eat one. You are one brave warrior, truly taking one for the team. *Tipping snack cap to you*