Water is a no-sodium, carb-free, fat-free, non-caloric, nontoxic beverage — so why does it need a childproof cap?

I just purchased a 25 oz. bottle of “Pure Spring Water” at a hotel gift shop. While spending what seemed like an eternity trying to open the darned bottle, I had a chance to make a few observations about my purchase, observations I feel compelled to share. If it spares just one person the desperation I experienced while wrestling with the tamperproof packaging, my humiliation will not have been in vain.

First off, can someone please tell me why there is nutritional information on a bottle of water? I mean, isn’t water the original no-cal beverage? Hey, water bottlers of the world, can’t you all just print, in bold letters, “Water is a non-caloric beverage, the only ingredient is water”, and spare us the parade of zeros on the “Nutritional Information” disclosure?

Personally, as long as its not contaminated by toxic waste, contagion, or radiation, I don’t give a darn whether it was plumbed from a glacial Icelandic fjord, delivered by horse-drawn carriages, all to ultimately grace my lead-crystal water goblet, or if it came straight from the municipal water tap to my disposable paper cup; it’s all the same drink with the same chemical structure and flavor. The nutritional label will do little to clarify the superiority of one water brand vs. another — all the ingredients, all one of them, are the same.

Okay, next question, and this is a tough one. Why on earth must I go through two layers of security to get to the actual water? The tamper-proof shrink wrap, well, that I understand — it’s reassuring to know that once bottled, my beverage is safe from those who would use water as a weapon of my destruction.

It’s that second layer of security, the childproof safety cap, that I don’t understand. Water is, hands down, the safest consumable substance known to man. Why would anyone need to be protected from it? The only hazard I can see is possible drowning, but it’s only twenty-five little ounces — not even a child needs to be protected from such an insignificant body of water.

C’mon, could we lose the childproof safety cap, so that the kiddies can have a drink and arthritic patients everywhere can have access to the water they need to take their meds? There is nothing so pitiful as watching a grown women bawling like a baby while wrestling with a water bottle, all so she can take the meds she now needs from the trauma of trying to open the blasted thing.

The next question is a delicate one, delicate enough that I almost hesitate to ask it. Why are the caps ribbed? The only other product I know of, that is so prominently ribbed, advertises said ribbing as a feature “for her pleasure.” Take my advice, water bottlers of the world — keep the ribs off the bottle cap and in the BBQ pit. As for the other ribbed products — that’s what all-night convenience stores are for. Think of the children.

Okay, this is my last observation, I promise. It, too, is in the form of a question. Why does my water bottle have a sippy spout? Heck, why does ANY water bottle need one? Let me be really clear on this one. I gave up using bottles and sippy cups when I was a toddler, graduating to “the big girl cup.” My parents were so proud — I’m pretty sure they clapped and praised me on how “grown up” I had become.

So, why would I want to backslide on that crucial developmental milestone, just for the convenience of not having to remove the bottle cap to take a sip of the H two OH? Nope, I just can’t do it. And I can’t help but receive a mental image of a fully grown woman sucking on a baby bottle whenever I see someone sucking the life’s blood out of the sippy-spout water delivery system. Thumb sucking and adult nappies can’t be too far behind once one chooses to go down this road.

In summary, now that I’ve: learned that water has no nutritional value, developed carpal tunnel syndrome from breaking into the childproof packaging, developed friction burns from the ribbed cap and sworn off consuming my non-caloric beverage via the convenient nipple substitute, I’m going to get off this rant-cycle and get ready for the function I will be attending tonight.

And as I don’t partake of adult liquid refreshment, tonight I will be ordering a pitcher of iced tea with my dinner. I won’t humiliate myself in front of my colleagues by wrestling with a water bottle during dinner. Especially since it is an absolute certainty that the water bottle would win.