Beverage or Biohazard?
It’s a good thing my partying days are behind me! Ahem. I was with a colleague for lunch today and we dined in the restaurant’s bar due to renovations. Now, this whole plastic awareness thing is new for me. I ordered a soft drink and it arrived with a stir stick. Never before have I been in tune to this and given I could never play poker, I am quite sure my face reflected my horror. (Hmm, maybe it was ‘disgust’). Why? It’s not quite a straw. What purpose does it serve? Is this really necessary? How about other countries? How do they serve drinks? I don’t remember them putting a stirrer in every cocktail. Ok, I don’t remember being sober enough to recall plastic sticks. I’ll have to check my photos.
You know, maybe my partying days are not over! I can hit the scene and make a statement at the same time! Yeah, assuming: 1. The bartender isn’t so good looking I become distracted by my own shameless flirting. 2. I have the ability to communicate after several libations and over the music . At least I won’t be caught in broad daylight using a plastic stir stick anymore.
In the interim, I’ll continue hosting soirees at home. I used to love my super cool stainless martini picks and glass swizzle stix because they were, well, super cool. Now, I recognize a very different value. Besides, a proper cocktail party is devoid of déclassé accoutrements made from plastic. (C’mon, I spent my whole adult life in Charleston)!
Now I’m in Seattle where Starbucks is holy ground.
Doing my part unfortunately means 2 ‘empty’ cups are often found lounging in the cup holder of my car. They were still there this afternoon because I had no place to put them!
You would think I was in the middle of nowhere. I mean, it’s not as though there are recycling bins next to every trash receptacle downtown. And, even if there were designated containers, the city would have to display a symbol guide for us. I wonder who would actually respect this. (I always wonder how many don’t follow rules when nobody is looking ~ My hand is raised)!
But, let’s say we were able to separate trash on any given city block. How impractical! Not to mention, big bucks! My cups and lids still had residue from my triple-grande-non-fat-one-hundred-and-thirty-degree-with-whip-mocha. (When in Rome…). Holy contamination! I might as well been carrying biohazard material in the front seat. Oy vey. My only option was to trek them all over town to find a PCC or bring them home. Do I want to continue to do this? No. I know too much now for an average non-environmentalist. (Although, I could probably play one on t.v.).
On the way back with my empty cups of triple-grande-non-fat-one-hundred-and-thirty-degree-with-whip-mocha I did a little math. By my calculation (chime in here financial advisor friends), cutting out my once a week habit of triple-grande-non-fat-one-hundred-and-thirty-degree-with-whip-mochas will bank over $225/year! High five, I’m buying an espresso machine! Maybe not right away: The convenience factor of a drive-thru is what has drawn me there. I barely have time to brew a pot most mornings, so I may have to learn how to go without. [gasp]
But, one thing I am not doing is walking around with a #6 lid anymore. (Did you know they leach styrene, a possible human carcinogen into food? And, levels are higher when heated!). Excuse me, Mr. Schultz, do you think you can find an alternative?
In the meantime, I’ll be grinding!
