Divorce and Garbage
The Transubstantiation of Alice's Restaurant
I was in the middle of a divorce late in 1996. Too many things went wrong that year. My wife (now ex) got depressed while I was away in New York consulting. No one took out the garbage for a very long time, and with a 1000 sq. foot basement, this situation has a good long time to grow and fester.
She called and said she was moving out on a Saturday. I asked if could we haul off this garbage first with the truck she rented. She agreed. So I drove off to the dempsy dumpster area and asked the attendant when and where I could take a whole Ryder truck full of garbage. He gave me directions and told me it was open. So I went back home and started preparing the garbage for it's exodus.
She arrived that morning and we loaded the garbage as quickly as possible, and for good measure threw in the old hot water heater that had been sitting there in the basement way too long. Then we loaded up and I ground the gears a couple of times getting it started and that garbage was on it's way to the dump.
Arriving at the dump, there was a sign. It said "Dump Closed: Saturday and Sunday". I started thinking about the Arlo Guthrie song, Alice's Restaurant and wondered if I dumped the garbage would I be caught. Then I thought about that weasel bastard who told me it was open knowing it wasn't (he worked for the dump!). So with much gnashing of teeth and saying all kinds of mean and nasty things I turned the Ryder truck full of garbage around and headed to the dempsy dumpster corral.
I pulled in and he came out of his shack laughing at me. I told him that he needed to do something, because he was responsible for the effort I put into loading it and I demanded to dump some of the garbage in his dumpsters. He ran back to his shack and grabbed a leather sap and ran at me swinging. As I ran away from him dodging between the dumpsters, I yelled, "I've got a good lawyer and you're a county employee."
He stopped and got a puzzled look on his face and said, "Well what do you expect me to do?"
I turned and looked him in the eye and said, "Why don't you call the police?" Figuring that I stood a better chance of surviving a police encounter than this idiot garbage man with a twisted sense of humor.
He ran to his little shack and called the police. At which point I took a personal inventory. I was in a Grateful Dead tie-die, with my long hair frizzed and blowing in the wind, wearing Birkenstocks. There was at least one policeman headed my way, and I had a truck full of garbage. At this point my ex-wife jumped from the truck and began unloading the garbage into the dumpsters when an idea hit me. Immediately I grabbed a broom and began cleaning the lot like a maniac on speed. On-lookers were gathering, mostly waiting to throw out their garbage and not in the least understanding what was going on.
Just about the time I finished clearing the lot of every speck of waste, police arrived from all directions screeching to a halt and pulling their weapons. I dropped the broom and calmly placed my hands on my head. They approach cautiously and one asked me "What the hell is going on?" I relayed the story as I've told it to you, in a politically correct version of course.
Then I noticed that the group had split was talking to the garbage man who was gesticulating wildly and yelling at the police. They were assuming defensive positions. One of them split and came over to our little group and said, "He claims you attacked him."
To which I responded, "No sir, he went nuts just like he is now and began chasing me, I threatened a lawsuit and requested that you be called and I'm glad he did stop and call you. Thank you."
The negotiator left and went to the other circle, still in defensive position. They spoke for a while and then returned back to our powwow. The policeman said to me, "He says you trashed his lot and threw garbage everywhere and he's going to have to clean it up."
To which I replied, "Look around, it looks clean to me. I'll gladly clean up anything he thinks I threw down." The policemen now looking around genuinely confused, didn't see any trash or waste on the ground.
After a while longer, the policeman in charge comes over and says, "How about you just get back in that truck and drive off and not come back?"
I said "Yes sir. Thank you." I'm thinking, I got rid of the garbage, I didn't get my head cracked open, and I'm not in jail. SCORE!
Then my ex-wife jumps from the truck and begin cursing and gesticulating at the police. The police all got the most dumbfounded look on their faces, trying to figure out where this additional lunatic came from and how she fits into the picture.
I said, "Excuse me a moment" as I raised my index figure. Then I proceeded to pick her up and shove her back into the truck and closed the door. Then I quickly jumped in and started it up and drove off. All the while policemen all stared on with dropped jaws.
She was very upset and cursing at me non-stop. I got back home and removed the garbage that still remained (4-5 bags and that old water heater). I swept the truck clean and started loading her furniture and boxes. A cold freezing rain started falling. She continued cursing and bickering at me. I said, "As long as you are talking, I'm not loading." and sat down. She didn't stop cursing at me, so I just sat there for over an hour and watched her struggle loading the furniture and cursing me in the freezing rain. When she finally started the truck and drove off, all down the block I could see her mouth still moving, cursing away at me.
As the truck faded from view, the rain quit. The sun came out. A mockingbird came and sat on a tree limb in front of me and started singing. I remembered, just that morning I was missing her, that feeling had been tossed out somewhere during the day.
Garbage Photo used with permission from Gary Jackson (c) 2010.
Police Photo Creative Commons License from talicat2000, (c) 2008.
Mockingbird Photo, Creative Commons from Trisha Shears, (c) 2010.
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