Nature's Friend Part Two One Plastic Soldier

It was hot. We were in Lone Pine, fresh off a few days camping and hiking up Mt. Langley, and it was hot. We'd done a favor for some folks we met on the trail, driving them from a trailhead to their car to save them a couple days of hiking they had decided or maybe realized they weren't up for, and we'd taken ourselves out for the traditional massive meal cooked by somebody who wasn't us, competently accessorized by a beverage buffet. As we prepared to make our ways back to the Ford Focus, I craftily noted that my plan was to take the ice cubes with me, and put them in my beloved Nalgene, even then heating in the car, probably to near boiling.

"You know Nalgenes kind of suck, right?" asked Noodles. Aghast, I protested: "T-that bottle is my friend. It's been so many places with me! It's served me well, it's never let me down!"

She wasn't convinced. Anyway, that's a story about one Nalgene, one that's been up Langley, up much of Whitney, through Desolation Wilderness, and other places my lapsed indoor kid ass has dragged it. Here is another story. And here is a third:

For many years, I've had a 32-ounce Nalgene in the work fridge, so I can have a nice cold glass of fridge water any time I want. Since I like my water cold, it's not uncommon for me to fill up the bottle and throw it in the freezer, so as to get it colder faster. (Feel free to adopt this trick for your own life.) Since I am forgetful, I have long had a post-it note on my work desk, reading "You have a Nalgene in the freezer."

I recently got a new desk at work. I swept off all the things on the surface of the old one and forgot about them. I forgot, I guess, about a lot of things.

The other day, I got to work, in the mood for some fridge water. I opened the fridge, and saw no bottle. "Odd," I thought. Then I opened the freezer. "Shit," I thought.

(Look what they—well, I—did to my toy.)

This is far from the first time I'd frozen this bottle, but it will be the last. I'm fairly unhappy to lose the stickers: Tabs, The Best Show, etc. I'm annoyed that I fucked up: I used to take a lot of pride in my memory, and as that capacity degrades with age, the space freed up by less pride and less capacity is more than overflowing with new shame. In this case, shame about breaking a useful tool that I had enjoyed and employed for a long time. Farewell, blue Nalgene. The world shall look on your like again.

(Poor fuckin' guy.)

(Our sick culture insists that the greatest grief be reserved for the military, no matter how many ways there are to serve, so I must borrow these pretty sentiments for a bottle that served and served, but was never a soldier.)