Recently, the Frito Lay product Sunchips came out with a compostable bag. (Yes, compostable. It's not a real word, but it's what it says on the back of the bag. I thought the same thing.) It's an over all good idea. Save the environment and what not. Good for you, guys.
But we all remember that first time, reaching for the Sunchips bag at Kroger and having the entire store look at you for the ruckus you've caused. You've disturbed the peace, you may have even torn a hole in the time space continuum with that noise. Put the Sunchips bag down, sonny, it's better this way.
That bag is loud man. For real. Like, louder than an inanimate object should ever be. So loud, that we have a rule in our dorm. "Do not eat Sunchips while someone is sleeping." It's hard core.
I can imagine the scientist in the lab that day.
Scientist #1: Hey, we've created a compostable bag. But it's louder than that time the Beatles were on Ed Sullivan.
Scientist #2: Let's keep it that way just to mess with people.
This incredibly loud bag, mixed with the fact that I love Harvest Cheddar Sunchips more that oxygen, often times creates a dilemma with me. I hate you Sunchips bag. I hate you with a burning passion. Why are you so loud? Why do you make it impossible for me to eat Sunchips in peace? Why do you insist on making my life as awkward as possible?
My most recent encounter with a Sunchips bag happened yesterday.
I was in the store, hoping to find something nomy to nom on. The C-Store (The convenient store on campus. Way to be super clever WSU) is usually out of Harvest Cheddar Sunchips, which makes my soul sad. But not this time. It took a second glance, since it was in a pink bag, supporting Susan G. Koman for the Cure, but lo and behold, in all it's glory, there sat my favorite thing in the whole world. I reach for it, knowing that the inevitable is coming. Closer, closer and closer until I finally latch on to it, holding my breath.
And nothing. Not the obnoxious sound I had come to expect.
At first I was happy. Hooray! No horrid noise every time I want to enjoy my favorite multi grain corn chip. But slowly, the sinking feeling that something was wrong set in. I didn't feel the release I had hoped for. I didn't enjoy the fact that the bag didn't make me want to punch holes in the walls. It was an emptiness, as if the obnoxious crunching sound of the unknown material was filling up some sort of void in me, and it was now absent, leaving a vacuous hole in my soul.
What would life be without them? How many laughs to the ensue? How many awkward silences to they make more awkward? How else would you know if someone is touching your Sunchips?
With this on my mind, I purchased the silent bag, and trudged back to my dorm.
But then, the skys opened up and voices from heaven rained down.
Nah, not really, I just read the back of the bag.
It was talking about how the pink bag supports breast cancer research, and that it was NOT a compostable bag, and if you wanted to buy a compostable bag, look for the not pink bag.
Oh, you tricked me Sunchips. Making me think that my soul was slowly withering away.
But sometimes it take something like that to make you realize what you have.
And yeah, that was my cheesy attempt to make this post have some kind of substance.
But side note, don't you find it odd that you can either support breast cancer research or save the environment? Why can't we do both at the same time, huh, Sunchip bag people?
p.s. I'm pretty sure that those bags don't even decompose.
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