One Man's Trash...

Originally posted Jan. 23, 2006

Last week was chaotic, to say the least, as we had exactly one day (Monday) to move most of our worldly possessions to the new condo. We spent last weekend finishing major projects (painting, flooring, etc.), then devoted Monday to hauling large, unwieldy pieces of furniture up a flight of stairs, including a plasma TV that weighs as much as me (movies, anyone??), while grunting in ways unknown to man. And we did that, hour after hour after hour, until it got dark.

One of the highlights of the whole experience was taking a run to the dump. Ryan ripped up the nasty carpet that was in the living room to make room for the laminate flooring, so we had to take the rolls of filth up to the junkyard. It was raining that day and the road up to the Fremont dump was pocked with potholes (which had subsequently filled with brown water). Praising the 4WD on the new Escape, we bumped along to the top, where a sprawling, horrific scene opened up before us: thousands, literally thousands, of seagulls wheeling above the heaps of trash, picking at unknown substances with the focus and devotion of a young child eating an ice cream sundae.

I was immediately scared.

"I'm not going out there...we're going to get our shoes all muddy and track it in the car!" I said.

"OK, you stay in here, and I'll go out..." Ryan hesitantly replied.

The second he opened his door, it was like a vacuum had been broken. The screams of thousands of trash-picking gulls filled the car, creating an opera of sickness and terror.

"Aghhh!" I screamed.

"Aghhh!" Ryan echoed, running for the back of the car and tearing open the trunk hatch.

"Go go go! Hurry!" I said, pushing the rolls of carpet from the inside so Ryan could pull them out faster.

"Oh God, it's so gross out here!" he said, by now sinking into the squishy, trashy, festering ooze that covered the ground.

At last, the final roll was pulled out and flung onto the heap, and Ryan ran back to get in his seat. By now, neither of us cared if he got mud in the car, we just wanted to escape the nightmarish birds. They flew in front of the car, seeming to play some kind of weird game of chicken with our windshield, daring us to hit them as they weaved in and out of each other in a dumpy dance. Everywhere you looked, all you could see was a sea of birds. A sea of squalor-loving, garbage-billed crap pirates looking for treasure among the spoils.

It was by far one of the grossest experiences ever. I feel sorry for the little guy who works at the top, standing there with his little flag, waving cars in and out while these crazy birds swirl all around. And the sound...the sound!!!!

I now have a new fear of seagulls. *shudder*