I woke up in a dumpster this morning. And I know EXACTLY how I got there. I got there by choice, not by coincidence – because that would be weird. No, I ended up in a dumpster by sheer rational judgment on my part. I’d like to say I was reenacting the alley scene from “The Never-ending Story” and I was really committing to it, but that would be a lie. And I only lie in my journal…to myself.
In actuality, I was running from potential muggers and decided to “lay low” in a dumpster for awhile and wait it out. I’ll never know if the “muggers” were actual muggers or just run-of-the-mill punks looking to scare me for personal gain and/or street cred. That’s short for “credibility” if you didn’t know, which I didn’t know until my research on street cred – consisting of watching the poignant Jay-Z film “Streets Is Watching.”
So there I am in that dumpster, hyperventilating in terror…I mean courage! I was hyperventilating in courage! See, the thing is – I don’t know my own strength, so I was really doing these hooligans a favor by taking a quick siesta on top of some garbage.
Who knows what may have happened if they were, in fact, “muggers” planning to “mug” me? I’ll tell you who knows what would have happened. Me. I know. Now I’m not going to bore you with what I would have done to them if confronted, but needless to say, I would have kicked their fucking asses…literally. The tailbone is a very sensitive area and incredibly painful if kicked just right, which I would have done.
Back to the dumpster nap…
Now, I didn’t just fall asleep immediately in there, as I was still trembling with bravery. I guess a combination of several dangerous dumpster fumes actually caused me to “pass out.” This, coupled with the fact that I had recently eaten a plate of delicious ribs put me in a state of euphoria and I gently eased into a coma-like slumber. Strangely enough, I awoke this morning feeling fresher than usual…just like that trash, or that so-called “Prince” of Bel-Air.
If, by chance or pure luck, you have never woken up in a dumpster before, let me assure you of this: It is not as bad as it sounds. First off, trash is incredibly comfortable to sleep on. I have never had a more relaxing snooze than on top of a pile of people’s used and discarded items. Perhaps it’s the squishiness of the banana peels under my feet, or the firm massage of a computer monitor under my spine. One thing is for sure: It’s better than the pull-out sofa bed at my mom’s house. That thing is the pits…
Part 2 Coming Soon!