An Airhead, Not A Ditz
Today a visiting colleague from one of our US offices brought a bag of AirHeads taffy for all us crazy non-Americans over here in Dubai to try.
First, I was judgmental: really, THIS is the greatest cultural export of the United States of America? THIS is what you bring to the Middle East to promote the All-American values of tolerance and democracy and… high-fructose corn syrup?
Then, I was skeptical: surely my palette had evolved in the fifteen or so years since last I consumed an AirHead, and certainly the combination of uberprocessed sugar + Yellow 5 would no longer taste like the best thing in the world. I mean, I am Fancy now - I think the most recent dessert I deigned to eat was something along the lines of artisanal extra-virgin olive oil gelato with a sprinkling offleur de sel at a poncey* hotel restaurant in Mauritius. The allure of CVS candy would be lost on me.
Then, I ate a
handful couple and I was bought in: the tang! the chewiness! the mouthfeel! “NOTHING IS BETTER IN ALL THE WORLD THAN AMERICAN CANDY!” I chirped to myself as I buzzed around the office on a sugar high, surreptitiously singing the theme song to Team America: World Police (“AirHeads? Eff yeah!”) as I passed a Pakistani colleague in the hall.
Epilogue: Now I feel violently ill.
(OH HI I’M BLOGGING. Mostly because I have recently received a variety of admonisments from friends to the effect of ”Gubbi, Instagram is not your blog” and “Gubbi, Facebook is not your blog” and “Gubbi, we really like you better when we just get to interact with your blog” so I will tell this story here and you will deal with it because guess what, MY BLOG IS MY BLOG.)
*Americans, I need you to help me make poncey happen outside the UK. Get on it.