They just don't mix

Very interesting stuff. Yesterday my mom and I were on the phone doing a crossword together. One of the answers was “eggnog” and it made my mom think of an event she had gone to, one where eggnog was served. Even though we were doing the puzzle, she felt moved to tell me about this event, and asked me if she could. I agreed, and she did, but before I knew it, she had already moved on to another topic, something about the Corning Glass Museum, in Corning, New York. I really didn’t want to hear about this museum -- I just wanted to get back to the puzzle -- but she was off and running: "The collection at Corning rivals any in the world." … "The exhibitions they have there are great." … "It’s in such a lovely part of New York." I  was just letting  her speak and was basically tuning in and out. However, she eventually did say something that caught my attention: “You were in Corning as a little boy.” That’s right, I thought, I was. All of a sudden, I remembered the pizza place where my mother and I ate after having visited the glass museum. The memory was vivid, the image of me sitting inside the establishment perfectly clear. Why? Because it was at this pizza place that I learned that spicy food and Coca-Cola don’t go together.