Not-Quite-So-Giggly Gas

I frequently parrot the message that a lot of small actions can add up to big change. For proof, look no further than this short video clip I did over the summer, one of a series of greener-living advice segments for a real-estate website called Cyberhomes.

There I am, proving the point that easy gestures—in this case, unplugging idle electronic devices—can all add up. It makes sense on paper, which is why the “everyone do their bit” credo is the basis of many behavior-change campaigns. And sure, it’s all well and good to unplug a few video games, or enjoy a healthy bike ride, or savor the vegetables and fruits you grew yourself.

But what about nitrous oxide? You know, laughing gas?

My dentist offers it to me every time I go in for a new crown or onlay which, given the pathetic state of my teeth, is pretty much at least once a year. And I usually turn it down, because despite its jovial nickname, the stuff is effectively two kinds of bad in one bottle.

First, N₂O is a potent greenhouse gas. Technically it has an atmospheric lifetime of 114 years and a global warming potential of 289 over 20 years, 298 over 100 years, and 153 over 500 years. (Carbon dioxide has a global warming potential of 1.)

Second, it is also the leading ozone-depleting substance.

In other words, there’s really nothing very happy about happy gas. It’s cooking us from two directions.

So to me, mr-guy-who-perhaps-knows-too-much, the fellow who advocates for smart growth to reduce transportation emissions and who buys less tropical fruit than he used to, a one-hour suck on the nitrous tap feels about as justifiable as a joyride in a private jet. Or a night on the town in a stretch-Hummer limousine.

Until last week.

I went in for a root canal. It was going to be a long procedure, an hour and a half. So I said, “this sucks,” and went for the nitrous. And you know what? It was awesome. What would otherwise have felt like a torturous and seemingly unending ordeal instead felt like a 15-minute dance with a fifth of tequila. I reveled in the dissociative effects, floated around myself. Forget the fist-clenching, sweat-drenched adrenaline, it was like effing Yellow Submarine in there. Yeah!

We live in a semi-delusional state of denial just to get through the day; we find ways to justify doing plenty of things we know are wrong. At least, like my standby electronics, my negative contribution on this front is extremely small; the medical and dental professions are only responsible for a tiny fraction of all N2O sent skyward.

The vast majority of human-created nitrous oxide emissions can be traced to Big Ag and the fertilizers that keep everything looking so lush down on the factory farm. A few obscure industrial processes—such as nylon production—also release the stuff. My root-canal indulgence was but a blip.

Make no mistake, the less N2O sent up there, the better. Even in a small way, a little less pain for me today means pain for others later.

But there are so many other ways to make a positive difference. Maybe the giggle gas is worth it. I’m going to tell myself that my continued personal efforts in other areas will make more of a impact, and keep pushing hard for laws that will bring about the mass societal shifts we need.

I’m going to be back in that chair before long. And you know what? Next time I’ll be asking for a double. And maybe some to take home, too, please?