The Last Straw

How long until I can say I’ve picked up the last straw?

How many suckers live in our county? Of 28,000 residents, plus some-timers, how many get a drink with a plastic tube to suck on? Couple of thousand a day?

Of those thousand or two, how many get past the drive-through window, past the fast food exit, onto the four-lane and up one of our 256 miles of paved county roads? Safe to guess 500?

Of those 500 straws, how many end up on the side of the road? I find 5 or 10 a day just on the one mile of road my wife and I have adopted. That would average out to over 1200 a day if every mile gets that much litter! Hmm.

How long until I can say I’ve picked up the last straw?  

Predictably, drivers don’t like to slosh beverages onto their laps. Gripping the wheel with their left hand, they hold a lid-covered cup in their right as they suck on their drink. Heaven smiles on those who keep the cup, lid, and straw until they can drop these into a trash can, but others use the roadside and forest floor as their garbage bin.

Plastic straws and lids take years to decompose. Sure, they crack and splinter in freezing weather, but they don’t dissolve. They collect by the roadside, down the hillside, half covered with leaves or mud, until a bird mistakes a straw for a worm and gets plastic splinters stuck in its craw.

I’ve heard sucking on plastic (with its BPA chemicals) isn’t even healthy for human beings. So here’s a pitch to restaurants, especially fast-food businesses. Give straws only at the customer’s request. Meanwhile, follow the lead of Texas Roadhouse and other establishments that have switched to paper or bamboo straws.

As a customer, consider carrying your own reusable sippy cup or a stainless steel or titanium straw, something you don’t have to put in the landfill. You’re not likely to throw an investment like that on the road, are you?