I was eleven. I was helping my Nana, who was volunteering at the Hartford Bushnell Theater, the biggest, most beautiful theater in Hartford. Since I was grandvolunteer, I got to run around the back halls and service elevators of the old magnificent building, a la Eloise in the Plaza. And all the stagehands and all the actors and all the techs and all the caterers knew me because I stuck my nose into everything and was already head over heels for theater life. I got to watch Le Miserables from the front row of the first balcony on opening night because we were helping to set out the food for the reception. Nana and I packed up all of the leftover fruit from the fruit plates at the end of the reception - a VERY late night for young Sarah, and there was a huge black tray that was full of pineapple juice and the pineapple chunks were so unthinkably bright yellow and I held the plastic bag open and Nana poured all the juice in and there was still a little juice leftover so Nana got a cup and poured the rest in and I was so excited to just drink it straight and it tasted like the most decadent, delicious, exotic, important, up too late, intoxicating liquid I ever had.
So I guess this is about how I really love pineapple juice - sometimes pineapple pieces get shredded and stuck between my teeth.
Sarah Elovich is a writer and performer based in Oakland, CA.