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Fri, 02 Feb 2001 20:30:00 +0000

Cigarette smoke hangs between the faint house lighting and the crowd that has packed C.T. Peppers in Indianapolis on a busy Saturday night. A brightly lit aquarium behind the bar draws the attention of patrons to a variety of tropical fish circling a 2-foot-tall silver can of Red Bull energy drink. Plastic table tents on the bar hawk Red Bull and Seagram's 7 for $4.95. Decals on the cash register and the front door alert clubgoers that Visa, MasterCard and Discover are accepted; another sticker announces that Red Bull is available. Bottles of domestic beer are still the most common order, but it's never very long before drinkers ask the bartender to open the logo-embossed display case on the bar and pull out a can of the energy drink to use as a mixer. As the night goes on, the distinctly syrupy scent of Red Bull begins to overwhelm the smell of stale beer.

In the annals of marketing, Red Bull holds the distinction of having created an unusual and highly effective sales strategy. Here is a product -- nonalcoholic, about as caffeinated as a cup of coffee -- that's managed to acquire a reputation as an over-the-counter amphetamine, a surefire wild-times elixir, all the while squirming its way into bars as if it were the latest offering from Anheuser-Busch. If Gatorade is sold to us as a "sports drink" with its promises of replenished electrolytes, Red Bull's marketers will have us believe that their product is a party drink, a stimulant, an aphrodisiac, a raver's "smart drink" gone mainstream.

Salon.com > Jeff Edwards

Liquid cocaine