You may be asking yourself, what was a big enough incident that would encourage to come back to blogging? The answer? A trash can. For two years, my roommate and I have been using a kitty litter bucket as a trash can. A few weeks ago, I went to Anchorage for a workshop. My roomie and I decided I needed to pick up a trash can. Like many things up here, it was more of an adventure than it should have been.
It started out that I trekked in about a foot of snow from my hotel in Midtown Anchorage to Fred Meyer; it was about two blocks. I picked up supplies: pasta, honey, nail polish remover (with acetone which is unavailable in my neck of the woods), and coffee among other things. Then, I went to the trash can section and found a very nice 13 gallon kitchen trash can for only $15.99 which is half the price of the ones in Bethel.
After I paid for my goods, I tried to call a cab. No luck. Finally, I stopped at the customer service desk and asked for a cab. Evidently, the cab company I called was too busy. I went outside to wait for the cab. I started unloading my groceries and packing them inside the trash can. People walked by me looking at me oddly. I couldn't figure out why. Then, it occurred to me, that in Anchorage people don't often have the need to pack groceries in a trash can. Finally, the cab arrived and I went back to the hotel.
I checked out of the hotel and headed to the airport. I then had to figure out how to carry/pull my suitcase and the trash can and my carry-on. I ended up balancing the trash can on top of my suitcase and rolling both of them.
I walked up to the check-in counter for Alaska Airlines. Unlike at Fred Meyer, nobody looked at me funny for having a trash can filled with groceries. That's probably because Alaska Airlines checks in bush residents all the time who would travel with their food from Anchorage to their village. However, I had to identify it. I had to write "Schalk, Teacher Housing, Eek, AK 99578" on the side.
By the time I reached Bethel and got my trash can back, it was covered in much more tape and had been inspected by TSA.
Despite the trouble and hassle, my roomie and I are happy that we have a normal sized trash can in our apartment. And, more importantly, there will forever be a trash can in Apartment 2B that has my name plastered on the side.
