“We don’t talk trash – we embrace it.”
Pine Level resident Mark Gillespie has been reminiscing all day of his lovely trip to the dump yesterday.
“It was a most friendly and pleasant trip,” he says, looking up wistfully at the ceiling in his modest frame rancher. “It was sunny, and not too hot. As I was giving my bags the heave-ho into the masher I noticed one man frantically forking free dump mulch into the back of his Ford F-150. Another guy was scrounging through the books and magazine shed, accumulating numerous volumes of German dungeon porn. Yet another patron was draining his empty beer and liquor bottles before he chucked them in the recycler bin – man at his best.”
Gillespie even reports the one-eyed attendant – usually so cantankerous and angry – was smiling and pleasant. “He stumbled out of his dump shack and complimented me on how neatly I tied my garbage bag ties. And when I reached for the masher button, he said ‘please, allow me’ and pushed it for me after jabbing several times right beside it. I steadied his hand and pointed it at the button, then we both watched the heavy hydraulic piston crush the bags back into the can with gusto. It was quite invigorating.”
“As I was leaving another Doswell resident pulled up in a black Escalade, smiled and waved at me.” Gillespie says with a hint of nostalgia and a tear in his eye. “I pulled ahead so he could have my choice spot in front of the hopper. He was much appreciative, because he had several huge contractor bags that were very hard to handle, like he had bodies in them or something.”
Gillespie says he can only hope subsequent visits to the dump can be as pleasurable as this one. “As I was leaving I waved a last goodbye to the one-eyed attendant, who waved back a little to my right just before he turned and walked straight into the door jamb of his dump shack, knocking off his giant wraparound sunglasses, his curses melting into the sunset as I drove away.”
