As a life-time supporter of 7-11 and its sales, you know how I feel about the lack of certain products in its Korean stores.
I love slurpees. I always have and I probably always will. They are the perfect way to cool you down on a hot day and sometimes its the only thing that sounds good.
Slurpees change lives. They bring peace. They bind people together. They inspire.
Growing up, going to 7-11 was a big deal. You see, the closest 7-11 was at the bottom of a giant hill. Getting to this heaven on Earth was easy-we would coast down in about five minutes on our bikes.
We'd walk into the store and stare at the endless amounts of candy, but ultimately we'd always end up buying nachos (with that fake but oh-so delicious chili and cheese) and a slurpee. No matter how many times we went, it was always a good decision.
But each time it was like we'd forget about the hill. The hill that was so fun to ride down on, but such a beast to ride back up. Especially with nachos and a slurpee. Those are two things that do not just sit there in your backpack waiting to be devoured. They seem to crawl and spill in every possible way.
It was a tough trip back home, but once we were in the comfort o f our own home, we could adequately enjoy the taste of 7-11.
So, back to slurpees. We all know that Korean 7-11's lack this necessity. Bad idea, Korea.
After getting to Taipei, and on our way to the hotel, we decided to hit up a 7-11 for some snacks and drinks.
There, sitting in the middle of the Taiwanese 7-11, was the slurpee machine.
It beckoned me. It called my name. I went.
I went everyday I was in Taiwan. Ok, I went more than once everyday.
And it was good.
And it was good.