Garbage heave.

It was the heaviest bag of garbage I’d ever had to deal with.

You may think I’m using colorful metaphors now that November 2nd is soon upon us, but I’m talking about a literal bag of garbage, from the shop. I knew I was in trouble as I was wheeling the large can around back to the alley. It seemed likely that a human body was hidden in its dark depths, and I wondered if, as I had often feared, a customer had pushed just one bit too far and had been Godfatherized.

In front of the dumpster, I had to come up with a procedure. I had no previous experience, nor applicable checklist, for dealing with a bag of garbage of this magnitude. After deciding that the only way I could extract the contents of the can was to place it on its side and use my feet as a reverse pulling force, I began a unique dance routine punctuated by various mutterings of ill repute.

After much pulling and stretching, during which I feared the bag would tear, I managed to drag the behemoth out onto the asphalt beside the dumpster.

Now what? I thought.

I had to get the bag up and into a dumpster that was nearly as tall as me. I knew without a doubt that it would take the usual 180-swing-toss, but I wasn’t sure I had it in me to build the necessary momentum in which to allow the bag to gain significant loft before arcing up and into the dumpster. I questioned the aerodynamics of the over-filled bag and the horsepower of my lightly-muscled arms.

There were few options.

I dragged the bag out in front of me, and visualized the throw. I retied the now-stretched yellow plastic closure strands, and readied myself.

Frankly, I envisioned several different outcomes, three of which I will now share with you:

1. A pack of hungry mongrel dogs.
2. Five city sanitation workers (two to do cleanup, and three to watch).
3. Swear words my grandfather never imagined.

I gripped the bag, took a deep breath, and the games were afoot. Putting my back into it, I managed to beautifully arc and release the bag at the peak of loft, it landing with a loud thud in the dumpster.

Pity no one saw that, I gloated.

Pity, indeed. Everything was lovely until ten minutes later when, while standing inside at the counter, my back completely seized up and fluid motion ceased to be an option. How could I have forgotten to calculate into my throwing-equation the fact that I am a bit older and stiffer and maybe not up to randomly discus-tossing heavy bags of garbage at any moment of the day without sufficient stretching and warm-up exercise?

I could go to a chiropractor, I suppose, but the method they seem to use to relieve back pain is to reduce the weight of your wallet.