Everybody Touches The Tongs
I pumped my fists high in the air as I crossed the finish line at the Key West Half Marathon! My sweaty, sore body hobbled over to the water station as a volunteer draped the finisher’s medal around my neck. As I gulped down the bottle of water, I realized how hungry I was. Just a few yards away was the oasis I was looking for – the post-race buffet.
Still trying to catch my breath, I limped over to the long buffet table. I hungrily looked down the length of the table and anxiously awaited my turn to dig into the large selection of goodies. I took a paper plate off the tall stack and waited patiently for the gentleman in front of me wrestling with the baseball sized race roll, making every effort to pick it up with the flimsy, plastic tongs. After several attempts, he finally managed to get the roll on his plate and set down the tongs. Not wanting to repeat his struggle, I decided to bypass the tongs and reach over to the tray of rolls. The man turned to me, picked up the tongs and said, “Here. Use these.”
I smiled, and with resignation, accepted the tongs. With each attempt at securing the roll in the tongs, I became more frustrated. One roll dropped on the way to my plate and rolled onto the ground like that poor meatball from the children’s song. This is more challenging than the claw machine at the arcade!
Hundreds of runners had been going through that line and picking up the same tongs. Think about it – every runner, regardless of the weather, wipes sweat and their runny noses with their hands during the race, picks up the utensils in the buffet line afterward. The noble intention of germ control would be obviated if we were allowed to use our hands rather than the tongs. It’s all quite simple; we touch only the roll that we intend to put on our plates. Consider this: no one touches my roll and I do not touch theirs, but everybody touches the tongs! I am far from being frightened by germs, but I would much rather take the risk of the remote possibility of someone’s fingers coming into contact with my roll than the absolute danger of their germ-laden fingers covering the tongs. Not only is tong usage in a buffet line far from a viable solution for the prevention of the spread of communicable diseases and are the probable vectors of disease, they’re simply cumbersome.
And it’s not just rolls and other hand-held foods that now require utensils. Have you ever tried to pick up potato chips from a bowl with tongs? No matter how hard you try and no matter how exemplary your tong handling skills are, failure is the only option. You manage to capture only one or two at a time, or the chips become crushed into smithereens, leaving crumbs for the impatient diners behind you. A while back, I was at a casual backyard party and I found myself having it out with the chip tongs which absolutely refused to cooperate. After several desperate tries, I looked up and saw that I had an audience of party goers. Some gazed at me with bated breath, eager to see if my Olympian efforts would be fruitful, while others cast their eyes upon me with doubt. With all of the delicate skill required in a game of Operation, I finally grabbed two whole, uncrushed chips! Victory! But, I wanted more. “Oh, to hell with it!” I said far too loudly. I set down the tongs, spread out my hands and grabbed a healthy handful of the salty delights. Unexpected audible gasps ensued. Not my proudest moment.
Apparently, this obsession with tongs is not just an American phenomenon. Recently, I was in the Munich, Germany airport for an early morning flight. I noticed a sandwich and coffee shop near the gate. I loved that they served “lunch” food for breakfast! I approached the glass-doored cabinet displaying a variety of sandwiches, all neatly wrapped in waxed paper. I opened the cabinet to grab the turkey avocado on wheat when I noticed the decree just above: “PLEASE USE TONGS”. Not wanting to cause a public outrage in a foreign country, I obliged. I grasped the pair of tongs I found at the base of the cabinet and opened up a brown paper sandwich bag. “Okay, here goes,” I said to myself. I slipped the tongs around the sandwich, gave it a gentle pull, and felt it starting to slip away! I set everything down, took a deep cleansing breath. “Okay, Julie, you got this.” I gave it another try. Fail. “Damn!” I said out loud. I dropped the tongs, shoved the sandwich into my bag and walked up to the counter to pay. The clerk looked at me shaking her head at my klutzy behavior. I know that look. Dumb American!
Obviously, tongs are necessary tools for certain items. Clearly, I am not advocating for dipping our hands into bowls of salad. Tongs are made for such items – they’re called “salad tongs”. No one has ever heard of a “roll tong”, a “chip tong” or a “paper-wrapped sandwich tong”.
Once upon a time it was acceptable to use our hands to pick up baked goods and other dry items. So, when did the use of tongs become the healthy alternative to our God-given hands? And when did using our hands become such an unacceptable social behavior? My theory lies in the rise of the righteous and pompous germophobes – the almighty guardians of the Book of Tongs. They are the ones who will assuredly alert the authorities to those like me who defy the social norms of tong usage. They are also the ones who won’t shake my hand, but will accept the tongs from my potentially saliva and snot laden hands. We all know those people. They walk among us and they breed.
I may never be invited to a backyard party again.