The last time I saw a pull-tab was in a package bar in Nisswa, Minnesota, as part of the gambling game played in dark lounges in the Upper Midwest, especially in the Land of 10,000 Lakes in 1992–at least in my memory. Never much of a gambler, me, even when consuming pitchers of cheap Milwaukee’s Best.
The first pull-tabs to pop an aluminum can went onto RC Colas in 1964. I grew up with Pepsi, and it was a rare treat, so collecting pull-tabs was never a hobby of mine–and my dad didn’t drink much beer in those days, save the odd St. Pauli Girl in the bottle. Pull-tabs faded away by the time I graduated high school in the late 80s. You knew when someone tried to pawn off an old Coke on you for a decade after that–the silver ring gave the game away.
So to come into my hotel room in Dalian, and find a can of Harbin so closed instantly made me recognize how stuck in time some elements of China really were. (Harbin is the northern Chinese mass-produced lager of choice, evoking the snow and ice of that half-frozen city. Best served cold.)
I hesitated before I opened the can, recalling that sometimes the tab wasn’t punched right, and the ring twisted off on your finger, leaving the can sealed–only opened at that point by a crack and requiring significant effort to finish the job. That would never do. I assessed the scoring around the tab, and hooked my finger under the ring. I was rewarded with its smooth unzipping from the can. Ahhhh…
What’s this? A pull-tab to get into my Harbin?