Monday, August 24, 2009

'Ode to the "Transfer Station" Men

The dump, when I was little, was no more than a big hole in the ground. Everyone would back their cars up to the edge (why none went over is beyond me) and just chuck their bags. No need to seperate anything. No need to recycle. Just throw the shit over.

I would often go with my dad on this Saturday am chore. We would joke about the pile of trash getting so high someone could build a ski area on it. One day my dad accidentally threw his keys into that big pit with the trash.

Stranded at the dump.

Years before cell phones.

Somehow, my mom came and brought another set of keys and we were rescued!

Fast forward to June '09, my Toyota Camery was the only car to get the dump sticker.....not the pick up truck.( I think Matt can't find the registration to get the dump sticker on purpose because he hates the dump). So I go to the dump every few days with our house trash and once or twice a week with our renters' trash because I love it. NOT.

Pardon me: The dump is now called a transfer station. And we are suppose to separate, recycle and reuse. We've come a long way baby.

I hadn't gotten the trash during the week last week from the renters. I just went on Saturday after they left. It smelled horrible in my garage and many of the bags were covered with maggots. If there is one thing that freaks me out, it is little white worm-like maggots. I am shuddering now just thinking about them!

So the reason of my post today is a shout out to trash collectors!!! For you to deal with maggots, smelly trash, recyclables, drippy bags etc... I salute you. For you to be able to drive your rig into the transfer station building without passing out from the heat induced stench, I bow down to you. For the amount of showers and the Purel you must use, God bless you. I, in no uncertain terms, would want your job as my full time job.

As a matter of fact, I might bottle that stench and a few maggots to remind me next summer why I need to hire you. I have felt this way for years and yet continue to drive my own trash to the Transfer station.

I am not worthy of your stench resolve. You rock.


Caution/Lisa said...

This makes me appreciate our ever-increasing taxes and faithful garbage trucks. Roll the cans to the end of the driveway; roll them back next to the house. Task done.

Your dad really lost his keys there? What a terible feeling that must have been!

Anonymous said...

Oh Lord....I remember going to the dump---the burn pile. Pulling thru the gates on those dirt roads--I was always afraid our tire would get stuck in one of the pot-holes and we'd be stranded at the dump! We had garbage cans with the lids in the ground at our house, too. Every night we'd pile up one dish of all the scrapes and someone had to go out and put their foot on the peddle, open the lid and scrape the foot off the dish into the pail. On Tuesdays the garbage man would come around and take those scrapes and pour them into a larger bucket, hoist it on his shoulder and treck across our lawn to the next house. He'd fill up his can and then bring it over to the dump truck. Maggots, flies, was aweful! And on a hot day...forget it!!! No more trips to the dump and seeing that in ground pail and lid leave our yard when we began having weekly trash pick up was a god-send!!!

WeaselMomma said...

Nasty, hire the dudes or tell hubby to do it. When I was a kid we could drive our trash down to the incinerator and dump it ourselves on Saturday mornings. We only did this when we had a large volume do to construction or something big. It was open to public during certain days. It was always an adventure, as will lived in a highly mafia active area and would always joke about how bodies people dumping, and there were I'm sure.

Anonymous said...

Ewww! I guess I should be more grateful of our trash collectors!

Jillian said...

I too would go w my dad to the dump in Acton, problem with that was we would come home with more crap then we left the house with. My dad felt like he could fix everything or someone could use it.
I threw away my grandmothers china by accident and had to go into that pit and get it after about a half days worth of stuff on top of it. YUCK.

Anonymous said...

OMG. this made me GRATEFUL we have a trash man who takes it for us! YUCK!

Little Miss Sunshine State said...

Oh, the Cape Cod Transfer Stations!

When I moved to a condo in FL, I found out that the little Rubbermaid box outside my door was a Trash Valet and someone comes to pick up the trash EVERY DAY!

KathleenKMM said...

I love the Cape Cod Transfer Stations! They are so clean and sanitary compared to the dump by our cottage in northern WI which is a true dump still.

Mary Ellen said...

I hate the transfer station, too. My fantasy is to someday live where the magic trucks come by and pick it up so I don't have to deal with that disgusting chore anymore.

We have to recycle, too, and all trash has to be in clear bags, which grosses me out to no end. Once, we accidently threw away a glass jar, and the Nazi at the transfer station actually ripped open my putrid bag, removed the offending jar, and handed it to me to take back to the recycle area. I might never recover from that horrible memory.

Wonderful World of Weiners said...

Simply gross. I would pay whatever it costs to have them come and take it away. Tuesday is my favorite day of the week for just that reason!!

Hallie :)