Just Plain Rubbish

Just like the 24 hour grocery stores, Chinese restaurants and diners that can be found scattered around this city I have recently been introduced to the 24 hour garbage man. When I first moved into my lovely apartment over the even lovelier, and might I add tasty, steakhouse I was directed to leave my trash out with the nightly garbage left on the sidewalk by the kitchen. It didn't really occur to me how and where that was disposed of by morning. For all I knew it could follow in the path of those people the Mafia 'take care of'. East River bound.

It was about 2 weeks ago that I got the answer to the question that really hadn't been puzzling me, however the answer is quite interesting. Picture 4am, pitch black and me snoozing comfortably in my bed. Suddenly, within my dream I picture a dragon, or bear or some sort of loud creature growling at me. This strange change in dream sequence startled me awake, only to find the growling was really the garbage men outside doing their, apparently, nightly rounds.

It is only in the city that never sleeps that the garbage men literally cannot sleep, do we really produce that much crap? Apparently we do.

But there is a twist to this diatribe. Once I realize that it truly is a legit midnight service I decide to follow suit and leave my garbage outside with the pile of black bags produced by the restaurant. The next morning as I am leaving for my daily trek to work I see my 2 white garbage bags sitting all by their lonesome. Cast to the side by these sanitation fairies of the dark. My garbage has been rejected. I never thought that my self-esteem could be affected by trash, but this morning I was brought to wondering why my sacrifices to the rubbish gods were not good enough.

Since then I have not tried to utilize the night-rider garbage service, but next time I get ballsy enough I will have to invest in black bags. They will never know! I will get you Inspector Gadget, if it's the last thing I do.

Or something like that.