Dying of Thirst

BOOM!  As my truck rounds a gentle turn, a heavy object rolls across the back seat and smashes the door.  The best way I can describe it is if you imagine a lead pipe hitting concrete.   Though familiar, the sound never fails to jar me from my relaxing drive.  BOOM!  Another turn and another nerve-rattling thud.  

As my blood pressure rises, I think of the four possible culprits.  They are likely somewhere scrolling on iPhones, blissfully unaware of the predicament they have brought upon their father. And right now I really, really need to berate one of them…but I’m all alone.  So alone I stew… 

Something strange happened around 2012.  As near as I can tell, that was the year that American kids first developed their chronic H₂O deficit.  For the first time thirst was in style.  And luckily, through the miracle of the free market, we met America’s parched youth where they were.  Thus, the Yeti was born!  That’s right, for 50 bucks you too could finally enjoy that which Nature had already provided for free…but in designer colors.  Soon the Yeti’s close cousins, the Hydroflask and the Stanley, emerged.  Each with important new features and each more expensive than the last. 

Too large for a cup holder, when full, these 2.5lbs. pipe bombs will do SERIOUS damage to the interior of a Toyota.  Take a corner too fast and one of these babies may even take flight and punch out a window. 

Let’s set aside the sudden and spectacular failure of human biology which has left our young people so dangerously moisture-deprived. I think we can confidently blame global warming for that and move on.  Let’s instead focus on the danger confronting me today on this lonely drive. 

And for those of you who raised kids before 2012 and have no idea what I’m talking about, let me be clear. This is NOT the plastic Spiderman thermos of your childhood. Those were cool.  They were light, fit in a lunch box, and had a fun flip-up spout. They held 8 ounces.  The modern version are weapons-grade and, in a pinch, could be used to transport harvested organs for transplant.  They have absolutely no place in childhood and even less place in the back seat of my truck. 

But if peer pressure overwhelms you and you feel you simply must have one of these industrial canteens, please do not buy one.  Just visit any local dugout, basketball gym, or school lost-and-found and help yourself to one of mine.  Because despite their glaring colors and unmistakable size we lose at least one a week.