Brave New World of Coca-Cola
In downtown Atlanta, at the tip of Olympic Park, sits the city’s most beloved monument. But to call it mere monument is to undersell. For it is a museum, a showplace, an emblem of Americana. It seeks to pull back your cap, fill you with its secret formula, and shake you until you fizz. It is the World of Coca-Cola.
One approaches this World across a grassy promenade, shared improbably with the National Center for Civil and Human Rights. Where the National Center offers a placid reflection pool, the World of Coca-Cola counters with Hummer-size Christmas ornaments and a bottle cap larger than my apartment.
At the main entrance, a sign warns “Under Georgia Law, there is no liability for an injury or death of an individual entering these premises.” But who needs liability? Through these gates lies not sordid compensation but soda dispensation, not tort but tang. And all you need to enter this fizzy world of high-fructose delight is $18 (plus tax).
Upon shuffling into the building with your fellow pop pilgrims, you encounter a cheery docent dressed in red-sparkle-everything. He welcomes you, asks where you’re from (Alabama — everyone is from Alabama), and points out the old-timey merchandise that surrounds you. In hushed tones, he informs you that Coke was invented in a building that no longer exists on the very spot where someone several miles from you is standing. As you ooh and aah, the doors to the next antechamber burst open. This one has IMAX.
Here, you watch the World of Coca-Cola’s introductory film, “Moments of Happiness,” for which Russell Jacobs, Coke’s General Manager of Retail, offers this artist’s statement: “We refer to the World of Coca-Cola as the Home of Happiness, so it makes a lot of sense that we feature a film that reflects that.”
“Moments of Happiness” is in the style that we homosexuals call “the concept musical.” Instead of a cohesive story, it offers a series of unrelated narratives connected only by a theme. In Coke’s case, these narratives include a woman sky diving, an Indian family celebrating Holi (the religious festival with the colored powder), and a nervous man boarding a hot air balloon with his girlfriend. The connecting theme, revealed at the film’s climax, is Coke — lots and lots of Coke. To conquer her fear of sky diving, the woman needs a Coke. To celebrate the eternal and divine love of Radha Krishna, the Indian family needs a Coke. To propose to his girlfriend, the man needs a Coke, and to isolate her a thousand feet above the ground.
At the end of the film, in a coup du cinema, the IMAX screen cantilevers over the audience like a giant garage door, revealing the museum behind it. The majesty of the moment is diminished only slightly when the Coca-Cola® Polar Bear™ waves you over to take pictures.
Beyond this litigious ursine is a choose-your-own-adventure of exhibits to attend and propaganda to absorb. Highlights follow:
Milestones of Refreshment gives a complete history of Coca-Cola, which paraphrases to “we make Coke — give us money.” My favorite part was this creepy Coke baby:
He’ll see you in helada.
The Bottle Works is a fully functional, miniature factory that demonstrates how Coke is bottled. With a slew of moving parts, it’s like a Rube Goldberg machine that sparks both joy and diabetes.
Until 2017, the museum handed out the bottles produced by this mini-factory. Now, they just give them to the creepy Coke baby that he might bludgeon his enemies.
The Vault of the Secret Formula. Coke really wants you to know they have a secret formula. Above the vault containing the formula (no, you can’t see it — it’s secret), a 3-D Theatre plays “In Search of the Secret Formula” on loop. This compelling docudrama tells the story of Professor Rigsby Addison Whetwhistle — “Rigs” to his friends — who notices that “each Coke is as good as the next, and the next, and the next. But why?”
Through his adventures along the supply chain, Rigs learns that Coke’s secret formula depends on the three U’s: “unforgettable taste, uniform quality, and universal availability. But wait, there’s a fourth U: (turns to camera) you! For it’s not just what’s in the bottle. It’s the experience that’s unique to us.” Remember, U paid $18 for this.
Like any monument worth its salt, the World of Coca-Cola has you exit through the gift shop, but with an ingenious twist. The exhibit that leads to the gift shop — titled, imperatively, Taste It! — encourages you to sample Coca-Cola products from around the world. Peru’s Inca Kola, Italy’s Beverly, and Africa’s Poms are all there, as are the ghosts of soda past like old Tab and New Coke. Perhaps huddling around soda fountains with a hundred strangers isn’t the smartest pandemic activity, but you fought off a polar bear — you deserve this.
As you nurse at the Coca-Cola Company’s ample teat, sampling cup after cup of delicious corn syrup, all logical thought melts away. By the time you enter the gift shop, you’ve forgotten the value of money, and by the time you exit it, merchandise fills your arms.
One must harbor no ill will, however, for the World of Coca-Cola is a monument, and this is what monuments do. They stand testament to their cause. They invite you to experience them, to take a piece of that experience with you, and to leave a piece of yourself behind — specifically, money. Now, as you stagger out of the gift shop, eyes squinting in the light, Coke will forever be a part of you — and, over your husband’s objections, every wall in your apartment.
