INew Year's Eve 1, Turtle Straws 0
I am going to start off by saying I don't like New Year’s Eve that much. It's two days after my birthday and six days after Christmas; two events I much prefer as I’m lucky to always be surrounded by friends and/or family for both. For NYE there’s this unnecessary social pressure for everyone to have high quality plans and to venture outside to overly expensive venues and have a REALLY GREAT TIME. I do that most weekends, without the premium entry fees and cocktail rates.
This year I was asked by some friends to do a lift for them from St. Martin back to Meribel, (where Turtle Straws HQ is at the moment) on NYE. I thought, “hell yeah, that’s a bloody epic situation”. I could do a quick job, get home and be in be only shortly after I have become a pumpkin, fresh for a New Year’s Day ski and double-money up courtesy of doing the lift and not being a drunken NYE reprobate.
The universe, however, had other plans. Everything was going swimmingly; at midnight I called my Mother to wish her a ‘Happy New Year’ and tell her that I love her (yes, I am an angel). She informed me that my Dad and brother were drinking port and watching James Bond; two more legends having a swing for NYE's teeth.
I did the pick-up all smooth and nice, although I am a terrible driver and cannot for the life of me reverse out of cul-de-sacs. The guys I picked up mainly fell asleep while I chatted TS and entrepreneurship to the principle of the party. I dropped them off and started the short drive home.
This story is pretty dull so far, but here is where NYE decided to up the anté. Heading up a mountainous hill, the engine of the Turtle Straws truck started to cough and splutter. I realised that the supply of fuel in my vehicle (yes fuel, not good for the planet, but my other option was driving a horse to work each day which isn't practical either) was extremely low and in fact not unlimited as I had assumed for the previous few days as the needle dropped lower and lower.
The car finally conked out, mid hill. I’m thinking “shit ok, I'll just roll it to a suitable spot and sort it out in the morning.'' Start to roll, stop rolling, why have I stopped rolling? Ahh I've hit the curb. Fuuuuuuuck!
At this moment I start having a meltdown; a lot of shouting, swearing (sorry Mum) and steering wheel bashing. Then, out of nowhere, a kind Scotsman appears. Whoever he was, he was a man of knowledge and wisdom. He is swiftly followed by the Gendarmerie (like the big-boy, armed French police). Now these chaps normally have a bit of a rep for being absolute savages, but on this occasion, all I can say is they were absolute heroes.
The Scotsman suddenly becomes like a Naval Captain, barking commands at the top of his voice. I'm at the helm doing as I'm told, (terrible driver as mentioned) and the Gendarmerie boys are heaving like tugboats in every which way to get my car into a safe spot for the evening.
The Scotsman then asks me if I'm shitfaced because its NYE, to which I explain what I've been doing and it surprises him. I make it clear to him that if he ever sees me out and about that he can have a jug of lager (this offer remains open, wise Scotsman). He asks me what I do for work and I explain that I'm a strawmun. He gets excited and tells me that he has heard of me (Mum, Dad, I made it!) which gets me fired right up. I decide to go out and I get home at 0630.
New Year's Eve has well and truly had my pants down this year. And it's probably had yours down as well. Those of you that went out will have paid extra on this night for the privilege. Many of you will have been served some kind of ‘eco straw’: paper or ‘Bioplastic’. Businesses are feeding you the story of an ‘eco product’; paper that comes from trees, and has a high carbon footprint, or ‘Bioplastic’ that actually only breaks down under high energy, while our oceans are brimming with plastic and Australia burns.
Don't have your pants pulled down for the rest of 2020; order some Turtle Straws or tell your favourite bar or restaurant about us and we will make a difference.