Paper or…Paper?

Imagine my disappointment the other day at the checkout stand when a clerk with the unlikely name of Hidalgo Hilario informed me that they no longer offer customers plastic bags. The State, it seems, has decided that for the good of the environment, it is infinitely better to let customers juggle paper bags while shuffling to their cars and—in the event that at least one bag rips—deal with rolling oranges, smashed kombucha bottles, and dented milk containers. The containers, by the way, are plastic.

Here’s the thing: I walk to the store. Plastic bags are much better than paper ones at holding groceries during a half‑mile or longer walk. I used to walk to a store two‑and‑a‑half miles away. Plastic bags were a necessity then. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them. Either that, or I would have had to drive. And that’s where concern for the environment clashes with practical reality. By prohibiting plastic bags, the State is more or less forcing people to drive to the store. I realize most people do that anyway—they wouldn’t walk even on leg day—but the effort still feels counterproductive.

But I’ve got another beef—as it were—with the plastic‑bag prohibition. Plastic bags are crucial for men’s health, especially if they live alone. For example, I use plastic bags to wrap up meat, fish, and leftovers, making the most of my trip to the store. It’s akin to American Indians acting in responsibly minimalist and respectful fashion by making use of the entire bison. Nothing is wasted, and I don’t have to buy extra Ziplock bags.

I take advantage of what marketing gurus might call the shopping “journey” by repurposing plastic bags to preserve food in the refrigerator and freezer. If you think that’s a stretch, try wrapping up a quiche in a bulky paper bag with handles and squeezing it into the freezer. It doesn’t work—although I did exactly that with a Christmas fruitcake two years ago, and it’s still fine. I take it out once in a while, chisel off a piece, and eat it, to the amusement of family and friends.

Okay, so maybe it’s not exactly like the Cheyenne or Arapaho, but I am headed in the right direction. There is a spirituality at work that takes into account different dimensions of the paper‑versus‑plastic debate. I mean to include here the economic one, no doubt objectionable to some, offensive to others, but there is an argument to be made for it, even if beef tongue‑in‑cheek.

To wit: plastic bags use polyethylene derived from petroleum and are cheap to produce at scale. We’re talking pennies per bag, which makes them cheaper to make than minting pennies (see Penny for Your Thoughts). Paper bags require wood pulp, which is more expensive to harvest and process. Plus, pulp comes from trees. Plastic‑bag production is fast, efficient, and low‑energy. Paper‑bag production is labor‑intensive, uses more water, and requires more energy. Paper bags also weigh more and take up more space, increasing shipping and storage costs.

As if a more expensive supply chain weren’t enough, try protecting your head from rain with a paper bag. Depending on how far you have to go, you could end up cold and wet, requiring over‑the‑counter meds. You’re asking for trouble by involving the medical‑pharmaceutical industry. You see how complicated this is getting.

I thought about mentioning all of this to Hidalgo, who had his own parking‑lot paper‑bag stories to tell. But the line was long, Super Bowl shoppers were eager to get out with or without a bag, and the prospect of carrying two large paper bags from the bottom felt like a forearm challenge. I don’t have an “arm day” (if such a thing exists), but I figured this was good enough.

Honestly, though, I’m still peeved that they ask whether or not I want a bag to carry out my groceries. It’s not as if I wander up and down the aisles with an NPR tote bag under my arm. What I really want to say is, “Well how the hell else am I going to get this stuff home?” Hidalgo would have thought it hilarious, I’m sure.

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