Contemplation on ginger ale

I wanted to do an ode, but then I realized the challenge set before me if I wanted to write some sort of epic poem or song. So, I'll merely contemplate.

Ginger ale: subtly spicy, sweet, and bubbly. The cheap man's champagne? The color is beautiful, a golden wheat.

Q: Why is it so associated with airplane rides? One can buy ginger ale anywhere, yet I almost only have it on airplanes. I tasted this glass of ginger ale yesterday, and I wanted to go. I almost craved that stale, recycled air, so that I could be... anywhere.

A: Ginger ale is refreshing. It's crisp, biting, and invigorating, making you forget the fact that you're in a metal tube hurtling through the clouds, reminding you that you are still conscious despite the constant din in your ears and the nose-bleedingly dry air streaming through nostrils and mouth.

On a nice summer day, sitting in a chair by an open window, with a cool August breeze* flowing by, it's a perfect pairing.

*"cool" and "August"-- oxymoron?