My walk wasn’t five minutes old this morning when the first shards of a smashed Miller Lite bottle appeared on the pavement. I didn’t have gloves, so I kicked aside the broken “Tastes Great!” pieces safely off the roadway, fully intent to get them tomorrow. The brown glass will still be there.
Another 50 yards and there was another shattered Miller Lite bottle, the residue of the town drunks from Friday night.
All of this is expected and predictable. It’s an all-too-typical Friday night. Take a close look at the incriminating photo: three Coors Light cans, crunched Busch Light and Budweiser cans, yet another Dasani bottle, and, to represent the non-imbibers, a Coke Zero can crushed flat. On the small side, which I don’t really get, are miniature Gray Goose and Dewars bottles. And you can toss in the M&Ms box, the Reece’s bag, and all the other random trash the morons jettisoned.
Yes, I may have uttered some sour words at 6:30 a.m. But there was a bright spot: the Bud can and Dasani bottle were RFSDs. If they’re not stopped there, the next stop is down stream.