The city disgusts me on a regular basis.
At the bus stop, a man blew snot right onto the sidewalk, wiped the rest on his hand then boarded the bus where he, presumably, touched every fixture.
On the side of the freeway, in broad daylight, I’ve seen people squatting over buckets because the world is their outhouse.
Beneath the freeway overpass on Central Avenue, there’s an ever-present Pollock-smattering of pigeon droppings, smashed eggs and dead bird fetuses.
Then there are the regular sights, such as vomit splashes, and my biggest pet peeve: litter.
What separates litter from the rest of these is that litter is absolutely preventable.
I can’t stop a drunkard from experiencing the inevitable side effects of such a lifestyle. I understand allergy attacks, and though I prepare myself with a wad of tissues, I know some people aren’t that organized. Pigeons can’t be trained, or, if they can, it would be a waste of resources.
Homeless people are discouraged from loitering in public places, so it’s understandable they’d find other places to take care of business.
Conversely, there is no excuse for littering. I can’t understand why people find it so easy to make the world an uglier place.
My own sister will toss a cup or to-go box in the nearest bush the moment she tires of carrying it. I pick it up and she groans. I dated a guy who made fun of me for recycling. He threw a pile of papers outside his car door, so I got out to pick them up and he threw out another pile before driving away. He did this like it was teasing, the way some men tickle their girlfriends. I was not tickled.
Even more troubling is the trash I see right next to a trash can.
If I stretch my imagination far enough, I can see someone quenching their thirst after a six-hour workout. They overdid it and emptying the bottle drained them, leaving enough energy to digest it and get them to bed. Thus, they tossed the bottle.
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However, given the choice between the ground and the trash can, both within tossing distance, why on Earth would anyone opt for the ground? Are they trying to punish the people in charge of sanitation in the city?
One night before winter break, I got a call from my mother that my grandma had been injured in an accident. I was sobbing down the street, all I wanted was to be home and someone, I’ll never know who, hit me while I was down.
That is to say, I saw a pile of garbage right next to a receptacle on Central Avenue. I mean this was really unusual. It was covered in mud, like someone had taken the bag out, dumped it and smeared it with filth to make it a bigger eyesore.
This is clearly beyond laziness. I can summon one explanation for the madness, which is that trash-wielding folks are eying the mess plaguing the city and thinking, “Well, obviously nobody else cares about where they put it, so why should I?” I know there are people like me who cluck at the mess to their friends’ retorts of “tree-hugger” and “hippie.”
I am a bit of a hippie, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one to care about your environment. It’s like the difference between living in a neat, clean, home and something akin to a hoarder home. In the former environment, you feel happy, comfortable, like you can relax and enjoy being there. In the latter, you’d like to escape or even do something to make it habitable but are overwhelmed by the mess.
I’m guilty of feeling too overwhelmed to do much about the litter problem. I’ll pick up trash sometimes, but I would do it a lot more if I knew I wasn’t the only one. I’ve said to myself over and over that I’ve got to organize a crew to help me one day a week and, bit by bit, we can get it under control.
Of course, if people didn’t litter in the first place the problem would be solved, but I don’t expect such responsibility out of everyone. For those of you who do feel an inkling of responsibility for the place you call home, help me out.
I vow to take one hour every Saturday to pick up trash if I get at least 20 people to do the same during the week. I’m a lone wolf, but grab some friends and make it an event. If I can get up at 4 a.m. for my second job, go to class and pull together a culture section every week and promise an hour of unpaid work on top of that, I’m sure some people will have an hour to spare.
Of course I won’t know if everyone is doing as they say they will, but I can just imagine they’re following through; at the very least, I’ll know at least I’ve done something. After all, my second biggest pet peeve is people complaining without doing anything to help the problem.
