Mike Baxter for Outdoor Man talking to you today about... civil responsibility. Or, the total lack thereof. You know, I try to spend time encouraging folks to get outdoors, enjoy nature, and build some character. Well, I just got back from Kings Island, where character apparently went to die at the Coney BBQ. I wanted some pulled pork, not a side order of disgust. Look at the pictures of the eating area, it'll show you what some "modern families" consider acceptable behavior. One of the tables- They ordered macaroni. Then, apparently, they decided to paint with it. In another, it looks like they ordered a radioactive milkshake and tried to contain the meltdown then left a single cup as a monument to their failure. It's a biohazard. Then another table didn't have a meal; it had a conflict. The pile of napkins is so big it should have its own zip code. Is that paper plate empty, or did someone just finish consuming a small animal? Seriously, who does this? Who walks away from this mess with their kids and thinks, "Yep, that was a quality dining experience, and now it's someone else's problem!" You see this mess? This isn't the Coney BBQ's fault. This is parents failing. It's laziness. Disrespect. It's teaching your kids that you're too special to clean up after yourselves. If you can’t manage to throw away your trash at Kings Island, I’m scared to see what your living room looks like. Having sat there for 30 minutes+, we got to watch other families detour around these in search of clean tables, and happened to see two different employees: one emptying the trash can the other one had a broom- you know, the thing you "sweep" with? They swept right past the carnage and kept sweeping the ground. Apparently didn't see Mount Napkin and Blue Lake. It’s like they were wearing blinders tuned specifically to dodge work not in "the description." You can buy new tables. You can buy new trash cans. But you can't buy common decency from guests and apparently can't buy staff with peripheral vision. For a late September Saturday evening at the Coney BBQ, they seem to be fresh out of both. I'm headed off to find some hand sanitizer. And maybe a power washer. Baxter, out. (I'm not really Mike Baxter, the TV character - he's fictitious (or ABC, for that matter), nor the baseball player... I've borrowed the persona to make a point through humorous observation).