Last week I went to lunch with a friend and we both got water that came with plastic straws. We ordered drinks that both came with straws. A second round brought two more straws, so our combined toss-away factor of plastic to recycling (if restaurants put straws in the recycling) was six. If they don’t recycle, then all six went to the landfill or are blowing down Route 66 somewhere, looking for a home to rest.
We can blame ourselves for this extra garbage. I could kick myself, but try to remember (and forget) to ask the waitperson NOT to let the bartender put a straw in the glass. In the first place, I DON’T WANT ONE! I hate sucking on a straw. I want to drink from a glass. Where did this hollowed tube thing start anyway?
As a kid, I can remember it being a birthday treat to use straws. Or, that once every few months we went out for an extra special treat to get a hamburger or pizza, we got Shirley Temple’s and the straw and cherry seemed to enhance the sweetness of the drink. You looked forward to it, so perhaps the straw as an instrument of joy got embedded into your brain and once you reached adulthood, that feeling didn’t leave.
But it did. I don’t want a straw any more. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I “wanted” one. But they keep coming off the processing line, straw after straw, shipped to restaurants, stuck in drinks, where customers pull them out because they don’t really want them, and then they get wiped off the table into the garbage (most likely) where they get buried, not decomposing for generations.
I’d like to make a suggestion to cut down on this plastic waste, and of course this is going to upset the plastic straw manufacturers because I will cut into the jobs, profits and production: Waiters and waitresses should ask customers when a drink order is placed whether you want a straw.
“I’d like a gin and tonic please.”
“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper.”
“Would you like a straw with those drinks?’
“No thanks, Lyndon Johnson was President the last time I used a straws, but thank you for asking. I appreciate you looking out for the environment, and cutting down on waste.”
This interplay would be a fascinating exercise both for the waitperson and the customer. Waiters and waitresses would be made aware of the amount of excess they generate based on every meal they serve. Customers would have to think about what they really want, and whether a straw is really some necessity or just another adornment not worth jack.
Many meals and drinks get dressed up. How something “appears” often adds to a product’s attractiveness, gaining our attention or getting us to buy something we don’t want or need.
Though I don’t think plastic straws fall consistently into that category, they certainly are there mostly for cosmetic purposes and not for functionality. For that reason alone, most of us should just say “no” on a regular basis.
It might be tough to draw those last few drops out of your drink without spilling it onto your shirt when tipping the glass causes the ice to shift and all the liquid comes suddenly shooting towards your face, slipping past your lips and splashing you publicly. But that’s okay.
You can live with the embarrassment. That’s what the extra napkin is for. Just say no to the straw. At least the napkin will decompose.
We can blame ourselves for this extra garbage. I could kick myself, but try to remember (and forget) to ask the waitperson NOT to let the bartender put a straw in the glass. In the first place, I DON’T WANT ONE! I hate sucking on a straw. I want to drink from a glass. Where did this hollowed tube thing start anyway?
As a kid, I can remember it being a birthday treat to use straws. Or, that once every few months we went out for an extra special treat to get a hamburger or pizza, we got Shirley Temple’s and the straw and cherry seemed to enhance the sweetness of the drink. You looked forward to it, so perhaps the straw as an instrument of joy got embedded into your brain and once you reached adulthood, that feeling didn’t leave.
But it did. I don’t want a straw any more. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I “wanted” one. But they keep coming off the processing line, straw after straw, shipped to restaurants, stuck in drinks, where customers pull them out because they don’t really want them, and then they get wiped off the table into the garbage (most likely) where they get buried, not decomposing for generations.
I’d like to make a suggestion to cut down on this plastic waste, and of course this is going to upset the plastic straw manufacturers because I will cut into the jobs, profits and production: Waiters and waitresses should ask customers when a drink order is placed whether you want a straw.
“I’d like a gin and tonic please.”
“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper.”
“Would you like a straw with those drinks?’
“No thanks, Lyndon Johnson was President the last time I used a straws, but thank you for asking. I appreciate you looking out for the environment, and cutting down on waste.”
This interplay would be a fascinating exercise both for the waitperson and the customer. Waiters and waitresses would be made aware of the amount of excess they generate based on every meal they serve. Customers would have to think about what they really want, and whether a straw is really some necessity or just another adornment not worth jack.
Many meals and drinks get dressed up. How something “appears” often adds to a product’s attractiveness, gaining our attention or getting us to buy something we don’t want or need.
Though I don’t think plastic straws fall consistently into that category, they certainly are there mostly for cosmetic purposes and not for functionality. For that reason alone, most of us should just say “no” on a regular basis.
It might be tough to draw those last few drops out of your drink without spilling it onto your shirt when tipping the glass causes the ice to shift and all the liquid comes suddenly shooting towards your face, slipping past your lips and splashing you publicly. But that’s okay.
You can live with the embarrassment. That’s what the extra napkin is for. Just say no to the straw. At least the napkin will decompose.