Blue Bin Loudin: A humorous look at recycling in Edmonton

Date: February 2002

Tap. Tap. Tap. A most annoying sound at 3 a.m. The noise increased as the wind howled. By the time I was out of my warm bed and over by the bedroom window, my entire vocabulary of swear words was exhausted. Peering out into the February darkness of 2002, I located the source of my discomfort. The yellow plastic lid on the recycle blue bin in the alley was opening and closing as if gasping for air. As my bleary eyes focused on the culprit, the lid blew back on its¹ hinge, making a horrible cracking sound. Just as suddenly it reversed, smacking down on the lip of the container. It seemed to enjoy it's new found beat and it happily bashed about to some ancient tribal rhythm. The lid blew back and stayed open. Magically, the contents of the container began shifting as the wind blew across its opening. Stirring, slowly at first, rotating clockwise, and the contents began to lift ever so slightly. A single sheet of newspaper followed by some paper towels, wiggled free and spiraled up and out. Heavier materials reluctantly left the safety of the container, climbing the inside walls, over the edge and slowly danced down the alley.

The winter stars witnessed the aerial ballet taking place above the parking lot and just outside my ninth floor window. All kinds of floating paper moved to the beat of the bin lid. Multicolored grocery bags drifted about like celestial jellyfish, filling up with wind as they zoomed up, down, and sideways, as if possessed.

Something moved just below my window on the building¹s outside wall. It came into view slowly inching up the building¹s face and creeping onto the outside windowsill. Mottled green in colour it flapped in the night wind, slithering up the window glass wiggling and scraping as it climbed. It wasn¹t until it was out of sight that I realized it was a green garbage bag. A Stephen King moment.

I got dressed and taking a roll of duct tape I went out into the early morning. About four or five pieces of the tape were enough to silence the lid and I returned to my apartment. The fresh morning air had fully wakened me and sleep came slowly. My wife Delores¹ laughter did not help the situation.

After telephoning Edmonton¹s city hall later that day, a very pleasant young woman listened to my complaint. She heard me out, and then transferred me to the proper department. The next day a city truck was in the alley and the driver installed a metal restraining bar across the top of the lid.

It allowed the lid to open about a foot and kept it from serenading its surroundings. Apparently the original bar had been pried off and stolen.

We now have a different blue bin in the alley. This one has a lid that so far has not been musically inclined.