Beer bottles
So a couple of weeks ago I came home to find an empty longneck VB bottle on my front step. It was hardly the strangest thing I've found on my front step -- I've had real estate fliers, an empty condom wrapper, the remains of a chicken meal, during the whole New Year's weekend a futon with a florid blood stain, and one day my car was sprinkled end to end with pieces of meat -- looking like a kebab was dropped on it from a great height. So I put the VB bottle in the recycling, washed my hands very thoroughly, and went on with my evening.
The next day there was another one. My first instinct was to send some sort of "leave my step alone!" message, like smashing the bottle and leaving the bits of glass there. But that would only inconvenience passers-by, and I imagined the person leaving the bottles would be inspired to throw the next one against my door, rather than just leaving it whole on the step. So I recycled this one too.
The next day there were two bottles, and one of them was not quite empty. "Well, good on you, for not finishing," I thought as I carried the bottles to the recycling. "At least you're not desperately addicted."
For the next two weeks I found bottles on my step almost every day. A few days there was none, but most days one or two, and after I went away for the Easter long weekend I came back to five bottles on my step and three on the neighbor's step.
I kept trying to think of ways to discourage this. Leaving a sign, "Please don't leave beer bottles on my step," I thought would only provoke the bottle-throwing. Leaving a bin to put the bottles in might work, but since I live on such a Gone-in-30-seconds kind of street, I didn't think the bin would last very long outside before some passer-by decided they could use it at home. Maybe sprinkling little notices about Alcoholics Anonymous about? But that was more pious and judgemental than I really am. I don't mind living in this neighborhood, and I don't mind what people do, and it would be especially hypocritical of me for begrudging someone one large beer a day.
So I decided to look forward it to it. And it immediately stopped. I haven't seen a bottle for three or four days now, not on my step or on any of the neighbor's steps.
Is that a happy ending or a sad one?
The next day there was another one. My first instinct was to send some sort of "leave my step alone!" message, like smashing the bottle and leaving the bits of glass there. But that would only inconvenience passers-by, and I imagined the person leaving the bottles would be inspired to throw the next one against my door, rather than just leaving it whole on the step. So I recycled this one too.
The next day there were two bottles, and one of them was not quite empty. "Well, good on you, for not finishing," I thought as I carried the bottles to the recycling. "At least you're not desperately addicted."
For the next two weeks I found bottles on my step almost every day. A few days there was none, but most days one or two, and after I went away for the Easter long weekend I came back to five bottles on my step and three on the neighbor's step.
I kept trying to think of ways to discourage this. Leaving a sign, "Please don't leave beer bottles on my step," I thought would only provoke the bottle-throwing. Leaving a bin to put the bottles in might work, but since I live on such a Gone-in-30-seconds kind of street, I didn't think the bin would last very long outside before some passer-by decided they could use it at home. Maybe sprinkling little notices about Alcoholics Anonymous about? But that was more pious and judgemental than I really am. I don't mind living in this neighborhood, and I don't mind what people do, and it would be especially hypocritical of me for begrudging someone one large beer a day.
So I decided to look forward it to it. And it immediately stopped. I haven't seen a bottle for three or four days now, not on my step or on any of the neighbor's steps.
Is that a happy ending or a sad one?
posted by Ellen at 12:43 pm
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