The Recycler

Had lunch with a woman over the weekend at one of those places where you're responsible for clearing your own tray. Not exactly Le cirque, I know, but it was a first date... and a ho-hum one at that. Nothing I'd ordinarily even write about. She's an okay looking accountant who doesn't seem to have many interests other than bad reality TV and hanging out with her friends. Or so I thought. I didn't learn of her intense passion for protecting the environment until it was time to clear the trays off the table.

Once I heard the words "That show, 'My Dad Is Better Than Your Dad' is so cool," I knew the conversation had run its course, and it was time to clear those trays. As a gentleman, I grabbed her tray too, and threw out the remains of her goat cheese, tofu salad (or whatever it was), as well as what was left of my bagel. This place is very greedy with the shmear, and I can't eat the bagel if there's no cream cheese left on it. Anyway, I cleared both of our trays, and she said, "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?," I asked, confused.

"You just threw two bottles of water in the regular garbage. That belongs in the recycling can," she barked.

"Oh shit," I said. "I wasn't even paying attention. My bad."

"Put them into the recycling can," she ordered. What before appeared to be the faintest hint of facial hair on her upper lip, now looked like a Hitler moustache.

"I'm not sticking my hands in the garbage to fish out two plastic bottles," I explained, as more people began to throw the remains of their meals, and their other wretched refuse atop the bottles in question.

"That's so fuckin' irresponsible," she scoffed.

I tried to reason with her."The store has to separate the garbage anyway so...."

"They're not gonna separate the damn garbage. If you don't do it, nobody will!"

"Well, I guess nobody will because there is no way I'm muddling through all that filth to get those bottles. If it's that important to you, why don't you stick your hands in that bacteria trap and pull them out yourself?"

"I'm not the one who threw them in there," she protested.

"I'm not the one who wants them out," I protested back.

"What an asshole!," she said.

"Bye," I said, and I walked out.