1. The shiny pouch makes you feel like an astronaut but always features something “summery” and “bitchin” like people in dark glasses rollerblading or windsurfing on a juicy wave of fruit. So you get the best of both worlds–space and fruit.
2. The little yellow straw is glued to the front of the pouch and breaks right off with a satisfying cartilaginous snap, like you’re snapping some really fresh celery in half or something, with a sensation of “dryness” presaging the sensations of “wetness” to come.
3. You don’t have to peel the plastic off of the straw; you simply pull it at each end and it breaks in two with another satisfying cartilaginous snap. What other popular, nostalgic beverage provides not one but two satisfying cartilaginous snaps in a row? Try producing a satisfying cartilaginous snap with a can of Tang crystals; you’re screwed.
4. The straw is pointy on one end which makes it seem a little dangerous and you puncture a little round membrane or hymen in the pouch with it, which plays nicely off the preceding snaps, as a sort of fleshy thunk.
5. The beverage itself is thin and watery and seems kind of beside the point. 25% less sugar! But than what? An actual grape? A rollerblade? A giant sack of sugar?
6. As you take the last drink the pouch goes flat and airless in your hand, like you’ve sucked the last drops of lifeblood from some kind of metal turtle and left behind a necrotic shell. But much less nasty than that. And actually a metal turtle shell wouldn’t compress, would it. This just goes to prove my old theory that there is no natural analogue for a flattened Capri Sun pouch.
7. If you press the straw to the inside of your upper lip while sucking all the air out of the empty pouch, it will suction-cup itself there and you can dangle it and swing it around from your lip, which as far as I’m concerned is a totally unique node in the sensorium.
8. When you’re done dangling you can blow up the pouch again and it makes a rich crinkly sound. Once it’s re-inflated it feels like something that should float off into the sky or at least bob ambivalently above the ground, like a leaking helium balloon. But I’ve only seen that happen one time.
9. When the pouch is inflated it looks like it’s full of Capri Sun again, and you can ask your mom if she would like a drink, although she will be smart enough to recognize this sudden generosity as a trick and that will surprise you–you had not realized that she was smart.