I was working on an investigative piece in North Seattle (that report airs Thursday morning, by the way), but I got thirsty and decided to stop by a convenience store for a Coke Zero. I had forgotten the freedom we enjoy in the suburbs.
I fill the cup. I put on the lid. I look for a straw. Wait. Where are the straws? I’m scanning the counter. I’m looking around like a lost tourist for a good 30 seconds when the guy behind the register finally asks, “Straw?”
They had to keep them behind the counter. In Washington, we don’t want straws getting into the wrong hands. Or in this case, compostable straws. I had to ask permission to get a dang straw…