I don't remember a time in my life where Slurpees didn't exist.
Growing up on Tallyho way in Rosemont, my sister, cousins and I were small kings and queens of a mass block of dull brown apartments that once housed military families in the 50's. This particular 7-Eleven was mere footsteps from my home and we pretty much owned it.
My mother gave my sister, cousins and me free reign to basically go to 7-Eleven whenever we wanted. If we could scrounge up change in the couch and her car for Necco Wafers, Payday bars or Doritos, the 7-Eleven was ours for the taking. It represented so many things: an adventure (walking a quarter mile away from home seems like a big deal when you are 6), a reward (after being good or doing chores we would all get a dollar to go buy whatever our little hearts desired), a gift store (I remember at least 2 occasions where we bought Mothers Day cars with change we purloined from our mothers), and a consolation (when someone got hurt the remedy was always to send the other 4 children to 7-Eleven for a special treat of valor for the wounded).
Once my cousin Amanda swung the screen door closed in front of me and the metal corner ripped a chunk of my foot flesh out. I definitely got a slurpee for that. Later, Amanda was accidentally shoved off a 30 foot slide that was built in the 50's and was locked up behind a metal gate because it was so unsafe. She got a slurpee. My sister dropped a brick on her big toe and also received the nectar of the gods we call Slurpee.
The panic of a fallen comrade would send the 4 safe children running to 7-Eleven in a panic - like the young soldier had been bit by a snake and the slurpee was the anti-venom.
Of course, the rapid response time was diminished on the way back home, since we all needed our own slurpee too and carrying 5 slurpees presented logistical problems.
Once the marred member of our little tribe had that slurpee in their hands, the pain was relieved like a shot of morphine mainlined into the vein. A shaky smile would emerge...not sure if they are done being nursed but not so scared.
The slurpee gave us strength.
Oh, the Slurpee. The pinnacle of goodness at the 7-Eleven. Say what you will about the Big Gulp, the nachos, the fresh coffee...we all know that the Slurpee is king.
My favorite trick while drinking a slurpee (and of COURSE something that only a child could come up with) is to knock the cup on your head when you get close to the bottom and sucking the ice through the straw becomes difficult. You know when you are about 3/4 of the way done, and the shaved ice gets clumpy and the straw cannot seem to find it? Well, knocking the cup on your head levels it perfectly. I have no idea why this works, but it does. Try doing it on a table or counter and it won't work. Only the noggin.
If you were ever cruisin down Kiefer Blvd. in the late 80's and you saw a motley crew of kids banging slurpee cups on their heads, this is why.
With the weather heating back up today for the first time in awhile, my mind always goes back to that 7-Eleven and a slurpee. The long and winding road of summer leads me back to that door to partake in a Coke or Cherry or even Crystal Lite (the sugar conscious adult in me) frozen treat. read more