My village is not your trashcan

I was driving home today, and someone in the car front of me at the stoplight tossed a cigarette pack out onto the street. I was reminded of a story I heard of someone braver than I: when this guy saw someone drop a cigarette butt on the floor or street, he would pick it up and approach the offender, "Excuse me, but you dropped something" The offender would then typically put out his hand to receive whatever he had dropped, and would receive the cigarette, ember end down (and often still hot) into their hand.

If I had more courage I'd do that. And I'd have done something similar here, too. Instead I just sat there in frustrated anger.

Back when I was a kid I remember going to Shea Stadium for a friend's birthday. A woman sitting in front of us (and upwind of us, more importantly) refused to stop smoking, though we asked her politely. Eventually we chanted "Lets Go Mets!" for several innings straight and filled the hood of her sweatshirt with peanut shells. I don't know that it was appropriate but it sure made us feel better.

Maybe I should start driving around with a bag of empty peanut shells: you litter in my village, I litter in your car.