We are in a hotel lobby picking up some complimentary muffins and coffee. J is telling me about the conversations he's had recently with a bunch of guys who are groomsmen with him in the wedding we're attending this weekend. Conversations about styrofoam (because that's what the coffee cups are made out of), and how it's made out of petroleum and is really bad for the environment and probably really bad for our bodies, too. "You wanna know what I learned yesterday?" he asks me, and I assume he's going to list more statistics about the pollutants we're ingesting on a regular basis, but he picks up one of those small, individual plastic containers of creamer, rips a small hole in the bottom with his teeth, (instead of peeling back the lid, the normal way) and lets the cream flow into his cup, a serious look on his face, squeezing as he goes, which causes some of the liquid to splash onto the table, totally missing his coffee. "Sometimes this backfires," he says, as more cream lands on the table. And then more. "I made a mess," he says.