When I was little, my family went on vacation in Philadelphia. As a big supporter of the American Revolution, my only regret was that I had but one week to give the city. When I was little, my family went on vacation in Philadelphia. As a big supporter of the American Revolution, my only regret was that I had but one week to give the city. I loved Philadelphia. Unfortunately, there was one major problem. You guessed it: Everyone called pop “soda.”

At the time, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I thought the birthplace of the Declaration of Independence could do no wrong. Nevertheless, there was something off about its preferred vocabulary.

When I came to Pitt, it seemed like everybody I met was from Philadelphia. While I’ve now learned that most of those who claim Philadelphia as a hometown really live somewhere within a two-hour drive of the actual city, the number of people from Bucks and Montgomery counties was overwhelming.

The more that I talked with my new friends from the East, the more I realized they had a different perspective on reality. To them, making the NFC Championship for consecutive years and being in the finals of the Stanley Cup never ended well. Cheez Whiz was considered cuisine and “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and Tina Fey somehow made the city a second Hollywood.

Although some of their habits came to be understandable, it has remained clear to me that I couldn’t follow their lead and start to call fizzy beverages “sodas.” C’mon, I have standards!

I don’t understand why it’s even an argument. Saying soda sounds dumb. Not just dumb, it sounds like van Gogh-cutting-off-an-earlobe dumb. If you don’t say pop, you lose.

Nevertheless, every year I inevitably have to hear pathetic arguments for the word soda. I never knew people could be so emotional about being wrong. The discussions are as preposterous as it would be if the engineers of the Hindenburg tried to convince me they should run the Federal Aviation Administration, all the while calling me the ridiculous one.

And the saddest part is that the argument is always the same. It’s like everybody outside the Midwest had orientation on the pros of saying soda. They all have the exact same five points they continuously pull out of their bag of ignorance. They are as follows:

1) Saying pop sounds like I’m in the 1950s.

Why thank you, Marilyn Monroe, for letting me know what decade I’m in. Seriously, how does a current college student know what it was like in the ’50s? Who told you about the hip lingo of back in the day? I read “The Catcher in the Rye” too, and I still say pop. The only way I’ll buy this argument is if you have a DeLorean parked out back that I can hop into.

2) Who says pop?

I do! Really? Was that supposed to work? Everybody that defends saying the word soda eventually asks this question when arguing. It makes absolutely zero sense. If you are arguing about it, there is clearly a large contingent of people who say pop. Either you are completely failing at belittling my viewpoint or actually lack brain cells. Either way, it makes you sound even dumber.

3) If people on the East Coast say soda, it has to be right.

Look: The Statue of Liberty is awesome and Ben Franklin was a cool guy, but unless I want some challah or a cheesesteak, this argument just doesn’t fly. I’m not going to get into the “real America” debate … but we all know it’s the Midwest. George Washington was all about freedom and all, but he also owned slaves. You know who was about true freedom? Abraham Lincoln — proud Midwesterner! Yes, I just played the Lincoln card. No, there is no comeback.

4) Wawa is so much better than Sheetz.

As stated in point No. 3, people who say soda entrench themselves in a battle for East Coast supremacy. For some reason, they believe this fight extends to … gas stations? If there is anything that soda-ites defend more than soda, it is Wawa. The second that I say pop, I am immediately labeled a “Sheetz person.” I mean, I’ve been to a Sheetz. I think I bought some chips there once. They were OK. I’m still confused.

5) Pop is a music genre.

My personal favorite has to be this one. It’s true: I do usually confuse Pepsi and Coke with Britney Spears and Lady Gaga (to be fair, they’re equally interesting rivalries). This argument is like screaming at a bartender that you just can’t drink a borough of New York City. And let’s be honest, if there were a music genre called soda, it would probably be awful.

I can’t say for sure which way this battle will sway. Unfortunately, like the hordes of Mordor, the soda-ites continue to multiply and don’t seem to understand the error of their ways. I do have hope though; I believe in a world where pop is the sole term used to describe this carbonated beverage. And I believe that you can take up the fight with me and, together, we can win this country back. But for the last line, let’s find some common ground: At least they don’t call it all Coke.