Toothpick of peppermint?

One of the most common decisions we all make without realizing it is whether to choose the toothpick or the peppermint when walking out of a restaurant. Toothpicks allow us to dislodge offensive food from gaps in our teeth while peppermints give us something to suck on with the added bonus of diluting onion breath. I constantly take both, but never enjoy the taste of peppermint. It's a flavor that exists to indicate that we are not fresh in some way. My favorite post-dinner snack is the powdery white mints with green, orange or yellow jelly inside (black is liquorice and, in my opinion, disgusting). These are offered in a bowl with a teaspoon that is too small to grab more than one at a time without spilling the whole prize. Regardless of whether you select the wooden stick, the red & white saucer or the florescent filled powder nugget, the act is symbolic as a conclusion to the procedure: we came, we ate, we paid, now let's take our mints and go. Toothpicks and peppermints aren't there for our teeth or our breath, they're there so we know what to do next, which direction to walk, or which door to open. They're there so we have something to occupy ourselves with while we think about the steak being overcooked, how much we've eaten or whether we've given a good enough tip. But most of all, they're there to say goodbye.