Several years ago, I was doing SO well in taking my travel mug to the coffee shop so I could do my part to reduce waste. Then, I slowly fell off the wagon. But this past weekend, a friend of mine "gifted" me a cool, new travel mug and re-inspired me. I originally posted this piece in 2019. Now, five years later, I've been reminded to do my part, no matter how small an impact it can make.
I like to do my part. And lately, part of my “part” has been to use an insulated mug when I buy my morning coffee. It’s a small step, I know, but you know what they say, "Every little bit helps," or something like that.
I don’t buy coffee every morning. I used to, but over the past couple of years, it’s become more of an occasional “treat” for me rather than part of my daily routine. That said, so I’m prepared such special days – and in an effort to “do the least I can” to prevent unnecessary waste – I’ve been keeping the aforementioned insulated mug in my car, so it can be ready for duty when the mood strikes me.
And this method works well most of the time. But there are occasions when it doesn’t. The first is when the mug owner (yours truly) forgets to periodically clean the mug, or when the mug owner (again, me) allows coffee to remains in the mug for an extended (days, weeks) period of time. In either case, the mug must be taken out of service until proper cleaning can take place.
The second – and more subtle – reason this system fails is that when outside temperatures start falling the car (and subsequently, the mug) has not had sufficient opportunity to heat up to a point where it will keep newly-poured coffee hot.
One recent, cold morning, I found myself in just such a situation. My insulated mug had spent the night in the car as overnight temperatures fell well below freezing. And while my car rests comfortably (by vehicle standards, anyway) in our garage, it is an unheated structure, and as such, the mug had cooled down well below acceptable levels for it to properly perform under "hot-beverage" conditions.
As I pulled out of the garage to go wherever I was headed, I decided it was a “treat-worthy” day, and I knew I’d stop midway grab a cup of gourmet coffee, which I would enjoy in my favorite (did I mentioned it’s my favorite? It is) insulated mug. As I drove the mile or so to my preferred coffee establishment, I realized that my mug was cold, and therefore, not at all prepared to deliver on its insulated promise at that point in time.
Arriving at a stop light, an idea struck me. “I can heat this up myself.”
So, I grabbed the mug and removed its lid, putting my mouth to it, my cheeks sealing the edges. Then, I began to breath into it, confident that my 97.9-degree breath (that’s not a typo; I’ve never been quite normal when it comes to body temperature) going directly into the mug as though I were trying to revive would do the trick.
One long, slow breath led to another. And then another. With every exhale, I could feel the insulated mug heating up … coming back to life.
And then, after four or five repetitions, I paused and looked to my right, noticing the driver of a large pickup truck next to me, watching me as he sipped from an insulated mug of his own. I could read his eyes. They were saying, “What the hell is that guy doing? And why?”
Still looking at one another, I slowly (as if lowering my weapon during an arrest) pulled the mug away from my mouth and placed it into the cup holder between the seats, as though I’d been caught doing something illegal or, worse yet, immoral.
Then, not knowing my next move, I simply gave him a feeble nod and smile, as though nothing was at all out of the ordinary, but also cementing some unspoken agreement that said, “This never happened, OK?”
Seconds later, the light turned green, and as we both hit the gas, he simply tipped his mug in my direction and took off.
But I still had work to do, and I wasn’t going to let a little embarrassment stop me from having a nice, hot cup of coffee that morning. As I drove the remaining half-mile to the coffee shop, I huffed and I puffed until I had that insulated mug prepped and ready for whatever came its way.
By writing this, I know I’ve violated the unspoken vow I made with the driver of that pickup, but I can’t believe he didn’t tell someone about it. I know I would have, had I seen someone administering mouth-to-mouth to a coffee mug in broad daylight.
Was I embarrassed? Not really. It takes quite a bit more than that to embarrass me . I just wish I knew what was going through that guy’s head, and what he saw (or thought he saw). Then, I wish I could hear his side of this story because that’s the fun part.
Who knows? Maybe he’s had occasion to resuscitate his own mug, and his parting gesture simply said, “I’m with you brother. Here’s to hot coffee, no matter what it takes."
But probably not.
Nonetheless, on that morning I could humbly yet proudly say I kept some garbage out of a landfill, and maybe, just maybe, I gave a stranger a laugh and a story of his own to tell at work, at the corner bar or at his Thanksgiving table later in the year.
And if he could see me right now, you’d see me tipping my mug in his direction, saying,
“Here’s to hot coffee, and stories we can tell others.”
© 2019 David R. Haznaw
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