Try Something New: The Great Vodka Red Bull

Haley Huett ’23

Everytime my best friend and I walk into our local Irish pub, we are greeted with cries of “Vodka Red Bull!” It’s unclear whether they know our names, or simply know us by our signature drink that we order one, two, three, four times a night. Amongst the crowd in the downtown where I’m from, a Vodka Red Bull is standard fare. Everyone loves them. On Wooster’s campus, however, I am met only with derision. 

“Vodka Red Bull,” they say, laughter creeping up in their voice, “That’s what you drink?” I respond with a cool head. “Of course, I do.” The Vodka Red Bull is utilitarian, I say. It is the people’s drink. Enjoyed by men and women, young and old, sloppy drunks and those that can hold their liquor, no one turns down a Vodka Red Bull. Barring, of course, the naysayers here. 

Perhaps at odds with the typical Metrosexual Sophisticate at the College of Wooster, the Vodka Red Bull might seem too mundane or juvenile. With your Espresso Martinis, your Bourbons neat, your Cosmopolitans and your “Negroni Sbagliatos… with prosecco,” the humble Vodka Red Bull sits beneath you. I do not blame any of you for your lack of exposure. Wooster’s bar scene is severely lacking and, in fact, limping towards the grave. You could venture downtown and find that nowhere captures the vibes of a typical vibrant, bubbling downtown scene.

As college-aged miscreants, we belong in the dark recesses of seedy, sticky dive bars. The bartender is a little mean to you and barely believes that your state I.D. is real. You do not order anything shaken, stirred or complicated. You order a two-ingredient cocktail that will get the job done. Adapt to these circumstances, or else. Here the Vodka Red Bull thrives. It is the piece de resistance. 

The Vodka Red Bull serves a dual purpose. Barring the obvious, a good night out ends in the wee hours of the morning. Perpetually tired, the Vodka Red Bull does what a good night’s sleep never could. 

My best nights have been had with a Vodka Red Bull in my hand. The energy from one can sustain a small army, and I have used every drop to sustain nights of dancing, socializing and merrymaking. Wired and ready to go, there is nothing that compares to bumping along to the beats on a low-lit dance floor with the nectar of the gods thrumming through your veins. 

To the haters, I cannot hear you and there is nothing you could do to convince me otherwise. You can drink your fancy wines and your IPAs. Your whiskeys and your Sex on the Beaches. Your Moscow Mules and Mojitos. I’ll take my Vodka Red Bull anyday. Branch out and try something new (and very collegiate).  

To the intrepid bargoer, or the nervous newly-21 year old, I implore you. There is but one way to go. Of course, if you are beneath the legal drinking age, kindly return to this Viewpoint when you are old enough. Never drink and drive. Consume responsibly. Know your limits. Obey all posted laws in your locale. But most importantly, drink your Vodka Red Bulls and be merry.

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