I Never Expected I’d Become a Plastic Straw Kleptomaniac
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When I became a parent, I knew there would be sleepless nights, long days, and plenty of stress. I also quickly learned to expect the unexpected. But even with more than eleven years of experience under my belt, I have to say, it did catch me off guard when I recently developed a strong kleptomaniacal urge to swipe plastic straws from my local coffee shop. I certainly did not have that one on my parenting BINGO card.
As is often the case, my downfall started with a grade school engineering project. My oldest son is finishing fifth grade, his last year in elementary school, and one of his final assignments before heading off to middle school was to create a contraption that could hold an egg and keep it from breaking when dropped from the top of a fully-extended firetruck ladder. It all seemed pretty straightforward. Particularly since my son is a big fan of an engineering YouTuber named Mark Rober who, as it turns out, did this exact experiment on his YouTube channel. Mark dropped his build from a bridge and then maybe outer space or something rather than the top of a firetruck ladder, but still, my son knew exactly what to do.
All he needed was some tape and…about 15 to 20 plastic straws.
In the YouTube video, Mr. Rober suggests using straws from Wendy’s because they are sturdy. He even filmed himself grabbing a handful of straws from his local Wendy’s, which seemed rather foolhardy to me, but who am I to question a YouTuber with 24 million subscribers? Thus, I felt emboldened to attempt the same stunt minus the filming at my local chain coffee shop that starts with a D. I opted to forego Wendy’s because I am unfamiliar with the store’s layout and I didn’t want to add an extra layer of uncertainty to the mission.
After I got the kids off to school in the morning, I placed my coffee order with the mobile app, drove to the store, parked, took several deep, cleansing breaths, and strode into the coffee shop in a manner that I hope looked sufficiently casual and did not give off any “I’m about to clean out your straw supply” vibes. Upon entering the building, I got a little nervous because there was only one other customer in the shop and the straws were located just a few steps from the counter where the workers were milling about, but I lingered, stirring my drink with a little extra vigor, pretending like I really needed to mix it up until it was within an inch of its life, until everyone lost interest and I was able to deftly pocket 17 straws. Unfortunately, my pockets were insufficiently deep (terrible planning on my part), so I had to hastily cover the protruding straws with the tail of my shirt before walking across the room to the exit door with a slight limp, holding my hip as if I was experiencing a sudden burst of bursitis pain. When I got within a couple of steps of the door, I abandoned all pretense and practically leaped through the glass to freedom.
I texted my wife that I had successfully swiped the straws and she instructed me to “ride that high all day.” And did I ever. By which I mean I spent the remainder of the school day carefully constructing a star-shaped egg holder out of illicit orange plastic straws and masking tape. I compared my build against Mr. Rober’s at each step by consulting his video, and while mine did not compare favorably by any objective measure, I figured it was good enough for a prototype.
When the kids got home, I stood beside my creation, holding my hands out toward it like a game show model highlighting a spectacular prize. It’s safe to say the kids were suitably impressed because they glanced up briefly from the electronic devices they seem to be able to log onto within seconds of entering the house. About an hour later, we met up with a couple of my son’s classmates at the local park to test my masterpiece. We didn’t have a firetruck with a long ladder handy so we improvised. My son’s friend was going to toss the egg device up into the air but the group decided I probably had the best arm so I got the call. I picked up the contraption by the end of one straw and tossed it up into the air as high as I could. A couple of straws snapped upon contact with the pavement, but the egg remained intact, safely nestled inside its pyramidal cage. We tossed the device a couple more times and the egg didn’t crack until the third or fourth throw, which according to Mr. Rober was expected because the design relies on the straws breaking to absorb the force and protect the egg.
Needless to say, I was feeling extremely accomplished. Until the next afternoon when my son informed me that he built the device at school and it was too big to meet the guidelines that he didn’t tell me about so his group just did something else. I’m sure it was some stupid design that wasn’t Mark Rober-approved. Their egg ended up breaking so draw your own conclusions.
But here’s the weird thing, the egg drop competition ended, but my body and mind were not finished with it. Every time I walked back into the coffee shop, I felt the pull. It was nearly irresistible, but I limited myself to maybe one or two extra straws each visit, squirreling them away in my car just in case another egg drop competition popped up unexpectedly. I was doing okay at getting back to a more normal existence until I ordered a drink from a different location of the same chain coffee shop. I had only been to this particular store a few times and had not been there since I became a straw klepto. When I walked in, my jaw dropped. The layout of the store was absolutely ideal for straw harvesting.
After grabbing my drink from the counter, I walked slowly back across the room, thoughts racing, a familiar tug in the pit of my stomach, my brow beginning to sheen with sweat. I stopped at the drink preparation station, plucked a straw from the fully-stocked straw holder with my left hand, passed it to my right hand, and tapped it on the counter to puncture the paper sleeve. As I inserted the straw into my iced coffee cup, I glanced surreptitiously toward the cash register which was located all the way across the room, almost around the corner. The workers were flitting about, grabbing donuts and pouring drinks. Completely oblivious. They were looking everywhere except at me. I took a long sip of my drink and looked back at the straw container that was practically overflowing with straws. There had to be close to a hundred in there. It was almost obscene. The exit door was literally two steps from the straws, I could scoop them all up in one hand, I thought, pick up my drink with the other, and be out the door in seconds. Disappearing like a ghost into the night. It would be the perfect crime. I reached out my left hand, nearly grazing the tops of those long, seductive, paper-covered sirens with my palm.
Sure, the egg drop project was complete, but you never know when you might need about 100 orange plastic straws, right? RIGHT??
Ultimately, my willpower won out. This time. I pulled my hand away, scooped up my coffee, and hightailed it out of there before I could change my mind. But as anyone with a straw compulsion knows, you have to take these things day by day, minute by minute, egg-drop competition by egg-drop competition. You just never know when you’re going to crack.