Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Whip It...Good!

As I’ve stated in a couple previous entries, I'm an avid runner.

As I've also stated in a previous entry, I find a lot of crazy shit when I run on the highway.

Last year, I noticed an uptick in the number of beer cans strewn on the side of the road. I blamed the stock market.

This year, I’ve been noticing something a bit more peculiar...Reddi wip™ cans.

No, not the circular Tupperware-like plastic containers of Cool Whip, but the long, metallic cylinders of whipped cream.

There are literally dozens and dozens of these festive-looking cans strewn along the road.

At first, I pictured a rather large-and-in-charge male or female navigating their high-priced Lexi (plural of Lexus) down Hametown Road, driving with their knees, as they juggle a Hostess® Fruit Pie in one hand, a can of Reddi Wip in the other hand, attempting to indulge in an extraordinary dessert.

But, c’mon! Let’s be realistic. That’s not what’s happening at all.

If I was a betting man (and I am) I would say it’s a group of teenagers-possibly from the Revere school district or, at the very least, neighboring Cuyahoga Falls, Medina, Richfield or Fairlawn-doing Whip its.

Yep, Whip-Its® - the act inhaling nitrous oxide from small compressed canisters or compressed cans of whipped cream. (Thanks Urban Dictionary!)

Seems to be quite a resurgence going on in this particular neighborhood nowadays. And I have a couple thoughts as to why:
  • It’s harder and harder for the youngsters to get alcohol.
  • It’s harder and harder to steal mom and dad’s prescription ‘back pills’.
  • It’s harder and harder to buy expensive weed on a high school student’s budget.
  • Simply put, it’s harder and harder for younger people to catch a buzz nowadays.
Look, I’ll admit it, I’ve done Whip-Its in my lifetime.

Yes, it's addictive. And, yes, it does kill mega brain cells by depriving fresh oxygen to your noggin. Hence, the buzz.

The last time I did Whip-its was about seven years ago...

I was living in Columbus, Ohio. It was a dull Wednesday night. My two good friends (who happen to be married) and I decided to grab a 12-pack of beer and a couple canisters of Whip-its, a canister cracker (I think that’s what they're called) and some balloons at a local Kwicky Mart.

We giddily drove to my buddy's house and indulged in an hour and a half of pure nitrous fun! With our lips blue and our heads throbbing, we watched about 10 back-to-back episodes of COPS and then called it a night.

Another story...

During a Spring Break waaaaay back in college, five of my buddies and I crammed into two small Honda Accords and hightailed it down to Hunting Island, South Carolina, with a huge tank of Nitrous Oxide hidden deep in the trunk. And when I say tanks, I'm not talking about the little itty-bitty canisters used by your neighborhood dentist. I'm talking the big-ass tanks they use to juice up drag-racing cars.

In any event, it took six dudes less than two days to suck down an entire tank of the stuff. In the middle of the night, I remember more than once hearing a silent zipping sound of the tent being opened, then suddenly an extremely loud discharge of the Nitrous Oxide tanks echoing in the night as one my friends filled up their designated balloon with the hippity, hoppity fun-filled gas.

Little did we know the buzz would evaporate for good. Shortly after our fun-filled Spring Break, nitrous oxide manufacturers deliberately added a small percentage of sulfur dioxide to the tanks as an irritant to discourage substance abuse by goofballs pining to achieve the laughing gas effect. Damn them to Hell.
But I digress...

While I think it’s fine that America's newest generation of pimple pushers are experimenting with this somewhat trippy drug that makes you giggle for a couple seconds, I’m a little perturbed that they’re being thrown out the window like an errant used condom after a quick back-seat bang (not that that’s good either).

So, Northeast Ohio youngsters, can you do me a favor?

After you get your little jollies off inhaling your whipped cream, please, pretty please (with some fucking sugar on top) toss your canisters in a plastic bag and pitch them into the garbage. There are plenty of bins and receptacles around the Bath area where you can toss these metallic eyesores. Maybe you can even look to recycling as well.
All I know is that Mother Nature would be much, much happier.

And, more importantly, so would I.

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