Dumpster Diving is the newest in extreme sport. It requires stealth, planning, and a heavy dose of loopy. A headlamp is useful. Other important tools include repelling equipment and a nice pair of work gloves. A hoe (the garden variety hoe will do) can always be put to good use in a Dive. And knowing what Medical and Hazardous Waste symbols look like is handy information, especially for Rookie Divers. A six pack couldn't hurt, surely.
Dumpster Diving is not for everyone. It is not for me. I have a fear of needles and rats. And my weak stomach puts me last in the competition every time.
Dumpster Divers aren't elbowing aside teams of bag ladies and hoboes over half-eaten sandwiches (although if they're hungry and they've been diving for a couple of hours, there's no telling). They're elbowing them aside for chairs and computers and Pier 1 Imports' crap. I suspect that the bright lights and colors of eBay lurk somewhere behind the lunacy. And to think you pay for what these people get for free. Silly, silly, you.
Why pay for something when you can go out at the witching hour, crawl in and out of dumpsters, party with Doberman-size rats, and get it for free? That's the mantra anyway. Granted, it's a convincing argument. You decide. I was always taught to be wary of pyramid schemes and anything to do with garbage, but then my parents are just plain nuts.
A husband and wife become more and more like one another the longer they travel down the same road. Unfortunately for my wife, I'm half Polish. Therefore, she is a quick convert and a now-eager Rookie Diver - mostly due to the bad influence of the pastor's wife. After some intensive training courses, my wife's first Dive is tomorrow night after Bible study. An odd time, I thought. But what do I know, being Polish?
I know, you're wondering what my address is so you can send me money, but we're not that bad off. Hell, we are, but I wouldn't want any of you crazies out there knowing where I live.
I'll keep you posted on the Rookie Diver.