Seattle is thinking about making shoppers pay 20 cents for every new paper or plastic bag. San Fransciso has outlawed plastic bags altogether at large supermarkets. Boston is also considering a ban, while Phoenix is giving away free canvas bags.
But in Tallahassee -- just in time for Earth Week -- lawmakers are coming to the rescue of the polyethylene pariah.
Perhaps only in the Florida Legislature, that little-known muse for the famous Joni Mitchell lyric, ''They paved paradise and put up a parking lot,'' could legislation to promote energy efficiency and airport recycling get hitched to the Endangered Plastic Act of 2008.
The measure would ban local governments from cracking down on plastic bags until the state completes a recycling study in 2010. (Is there anything politicians faced with a vexing issue love more than a study?)
The act cleared the Florida House Friday, with sponsor Stan Mayfield, a Vero Beach Republican, warning of ''a hodgepodge set of regulations, differing from county to county,'' though he said he didn't know of any.
Democratic Rep. Rick Kriseman was so alarmed by the pro-plastics amendment that he took his name as a co-sponsor off the recycling bill presented by his Democratic colleague from St. Petersburg, Janet Long.
''I think I was as surprised as the sponsor,'' Kriseman said. ``The bill didn't seem to be going anywhere this session, and then I suspect it started moving because of the change.''
The bill has been greased by a team of pro-business lobbyists who want to keep happy their customers who don't BYOB. (Although many stores these days, including Lakeland-based Publix, conveniently offer canvas bags for sale. Texas-based Whole Foods went mostly plastic-free on Tuesday.)
''What happens to that person from out of town who shows up at the grocery store?'' asked Keyna Cory, chief lobbyist for Associated Industries of Florida. ``It would be very inconvenient for the guy standing there with a dozen oranges, suntan lotion and flip-flops.''
Cheaper than paper and easier to reuse, plastic bags have become the carrier of choice since they entered the marketplace more than a quarter-century ago. Anti-plastic warriors estimate that 100 billion bags are used in the U.S. every year -- only a tiny fraction are recycled -- though industry officials are skeptical of that figure.
The bags are expected to take hundreds of years to decompose in a landfill, after a long, unproductive life spent tumbling down sidewalks, waving from trees, clogging storm drains and bobbing in the ocean.
They're suffocating the planet, environmental activists say.
For a totally impartial viewpoint, I sought out an expert: a Publix bag boy.
At 77, this particular bagger was more man than boy, preferring his official title of ``front desk clerk.''
Bag Man has worked at one of the supermarkets in South Florida for nearly two decades, so long that he claims to know how most of his customers would answer that most existential of questions: ``Paper or plastic?''
He said getting rid of excess plastic bags would be an ''excellent idea,'' but he admits he doesn't dwell on them piling up in the ground.
''I know it's no good, but it's not keeping me awake at night,'' Bag Man said. ``I've been doing this for so long that I don't even think about it.''
Then he pushed the empty cart back to the store, where another load of transparent, two-handled passengers were surely waiting.
Beth Reinhard is the political writer for The Miami Herald.
