An ode to my travel mug

The one utensil that, in my opinion, is almost as American as hot dogs and crackerjacks (and yes, apple pie I suppose), is the travel mug. Not only do most people in my world own one of these nifty inventions, all cars are  outfitted for two, if not three of these mugs, every institution who thinks at least a little of herself will have a travel mug with its logo, and you can't go to any conference without departing with a be-logo-ed travel mug.

What makes the travel mug even more American, in my opinion, is the fact that of all the countries I have lived in, worked in, or traveled to, the US is the only one that has a mug solely for the purpose of carrying hot, caffeinated drinks to be consumed during one's drive. Sure, if you're Dutch, you might argue that the thermos serves the same purpose. In fact, you might love your thermos as much as I love my travel mug. However, while you have a slight point there, the thermos is completely unsuitable for car use. As anyone who has ever tried to pour a drink in a driving vehicle knows, it's nearly impossible to do so without serious spillage, even if you're just the passenger. Imagine the mess that would ensue if you were actually trying to drive and pour some of that hot cocoa from your thermos into the nice, round lid you have perched between your knees.

But in spite of the serious drawbacks of the thermos, Europeans have never really taken to the travel mug. That sturdy, tall cup with a lid that opens and closes and a nifty handle or conveniently ergonomically shaped body. I wondered why this was, for a while, as Dutch people drink as much coffee as their American counterparts, and should therefore, technically, vow by their travel mug.

After some consideration, I came to the conclusion that it all has to do with the length of the average European drive (or lack thereof), the fact that everyone there wants to be a race car driver, and thus drives stick, and the odd truth that all your fellow commuters' sole purpose in life appears to be to try and put a dent in your hood or fender. I think we can all agree that none of these are conducive to driving while handling a travel mug, no matter how convenient the non-slip surface is.

When I first started commuting in the US, I realized, however, that there was no stick, no crazy cyclists on a suicide mission, and no nine-lane roundabouts, and subsequently, no need to gulp my hot tea down before I left home. The ease of getting to work and school meant I could easily consume my morning caffeine while getting there. So I purchased my very first travel mug. Do you remember buying your first travel mug? Because I do. It was a momentous occasion. Walking down the street with my brand new travel mug, I truly felt like a real American. Because, as we all know, no American goes without their travel mug.
I remember it as though it was only yesterday. It was a decade ago, and I was at an Einstein Bagels, ordering my morning tea. I spotted a tan mug with a handle and a nifty slide that allowed you to open the lid with the same hand that was holding the mug. It looked extremely convenient. But what really sold me on it was the text on the mug: "No coffee, no peace. Know coffee, know peace." I was sold. And so was the mug.

Eleven years later, you can barely read the words on the mug, and the color on the mug has faded too. Apparently, one of my lip glosses is seriously toxic, as the lid has some red stains on it (even after approximately hundred washes), and the mug isn't entirely spill proof either, as evidenced by the occasional tea stain on my work shirts. Over the past few months, I've had to come to the realization that, yes, it is indeed time for a new travel mug.

But here's the thing. I love my travel mug. That travel mug has been there for me through thick and thin, PhD defenses, new jobs, traffic and cop-shooting-deer, rain, sleet, and hail. I've tried other mugs, ones with no handle, ones with a top you pop open, ones with logos you can actually read, but none of them work as well as my ancient travel mug. There is just something incredibly convenient about having a handle that allows you to use your thumb to open the top, something that no contemporary travel mug has. So for the longest time, I was able to ward off husband-dear's warnings about germs, diseases, and general malaise with the argument that no other mug would work as well.

Until this weekend. This weekend, our chaplain gave me a new shiny travel mug. It's blue, doesn't have a handle, but it does have a readable logo (although "AF SARC "Sexual assault is never OK" is obviously not half as cool as the now invisible "know coffee, know peace"), and a nice rubber pad on the bottom. Faithful as I am to my old travel mug, I told husband-dear that there was no way I was going to like that mug, so I wasn't going to use it. But then, on Monday morning, something strange happened. When I reached into the cupboard for my travel mug, my hand bypassed my old travel mug, and reached for my brand new travel mug instead. I'm still not sure why, but I did. Perhaps it was the idea of wandering around campus carrying a mug with a statement about violence against women that did it. Or maybe the bright shiny color drew my eyes. I don't know. But the bad part was that I liked the mug. Liked it as in I used it again this morning.

So now my good old travel mug sits all alone by itself in our cupboard, ousted by its politically correct younger cousin. Perhaps it's time for it to retire, but we've been through so much together, it just doesn't seem right. Does anyone know of a good retirement home for old, used travel mugs?