Back in my hometown, you can't get vanilla Coke anywhere.

I don't really know how I developed a sudden addiction to vanilla Coke, especially since it doesn't exist in northeastern Ohio. But I did, and I was determined to find it.

So my friend Jenna and I went on a journey: Expedition Vanilla, let's call it. We drove to different gas stations all over the place, checked out three different Targets, a Walmart, and a corner beverage store. Nothing.

We got so desperate that we actually called the number on the back of a Diet Coke can. Each time I called, I was redirected to my local bottling company and was forced to leave a message on the machine because the line was busy. Who else calls the Cleveland Coke bottling plant? I left my name, number, and a desperate plea for vanilla Coke. They never called me back. (Maybe it's because I said my name was Phineas and feigned a British accent while stifling laughter, but that doesn't mean I wasn't entirely serious.)

But now I'm back at OSU where vanilla Coke is quite bountiful. I can walk right next door to the gas station and pick up a bottle. Except sometimes they run out and I have to wait a few days for the stock to replenish, in which case I usually talk at length with the cashier about how lovely vanilla Coke is.

One time last year where I even tried to get my dorm's hall director to stock the vending machines with vanilla Coke. It always bothered me that the vending machines had, like, six buttons for regular Coke and four buttons for cherry Coke. He said he'd keep my suggestion in mind—it went nowhere. I think I'm still slightly bitter about that.