I have to admit that this is only the second energy drink I have ever consumed.  The first, of course being, a Red Bull some time in the early noughties.  And while I enjoyed the Red Bull, it’s not exactly a flavor I would seek to have seep into my cells on a regular basis.

Since that time apparently a billion energy drinks have been released onto the market by any company with enough cash to hire a community college chemist with a penchant for mixing things that end in “ine.”

Taurine.  L-carnitine.  Caffeine.  Oh and what the heck throw a little inositol and panax ginseng extract in there.  Were those even words ten years ago?

Now, I am a fan of the original energy drinks: coffee and soda.  So needless to say I am excited to start exploring what’s out there.  And first on the list is NOS.  I’ve seen NOS on convenience store shelves before.  I’ve seen it emblazoned on some stoner’s BMX helmet.  It seemed like a good place to start.

Let’s start with the taste.  Really orangey and citrusy.  It wasn’t nearly as foul as I was expecting.  I wouldn’t call it a delicious beverage, but the taste is pretty good.  I enjoyed it.  It’s not quite the punch in the face that the Red Bull flavor is.  It tastes like something that might possibly be found in nature.  The aftertaste is bothersome and even though I’m early on in my energy drink exploration, I’m betting I won’t find a lot of drinks without a weird, chemical aftertaste.  How could you?  Perhaps I shall be proven wrong.

Onto the energy.  I don’t recall my early Red Bull having much of an effect.  I’m sure it did, but nothing over the top.  I am still quivering like an exposed nerve ending from all of the chemical magic contained within the aluminum walls of the NOS High Performance Energy Drink can.   NOS packs a kick.

I can’t be sure, but at one point I think I may have vibrated into another plane of existence.  I saw an Indian Chieftan who kept yelling at me without moving his lips and what I think was a sentient river made of dreams and starlight.  I woke up to find myself running down the highway in a state I don’t live in. I was later told that I had reached a maximum speed of 87 miles per hour.  Dodged a bullet there.  Safely back home, my dog is staring at me with tilted head, as I believe I am still emitting a sound not unlike that of amplifier feedback.

I think I might have to work these into the beverage rotation every once in a while.  Not so much for the pleasure of consumption but more for the sheer freakishness of the science experiment-like results that follow.

I wonder what would happen if I irradiated a can?  Where’d I put that Gamma Ray gun?