It was a beautiful day offering the potential to lead me to a new and better life in Spanish Peaks Country, Colorado — that magical, mystical place that had captured my heart almost a year earlier.  The U-Haul truck was loaded, my car was in tow and I had the first 40 miles of a 640-mile journey under my belt.  My attitude was less than positive, as is often the case when one is in the middle of major life changes.  My apprehensiveness, misgivings and tendency to over-think were hijacking any chance of excitement about this Primetime Journey.

Here, 40 miles north of Dallas, just outside of Denton, I planned to head west at Highway 380 and finally be out of the MetroPlex and on my way.  The hint of hunger and the Chevron Service Station with a McDonalds next door tempted me to stop, fill-up the truck and grab a breakfast burrito.  After topping off the tank and parking behind the Service Station (next to a dumpster) I grabbed a bite at McDonalds and retreated to the truck prepared to have my attitude changed on a road trip that I looked forward too.

I grasp the truck keys in my right hand as I opened the door with my left and hopped up on to the running board.  I noticed a few scraps of paper next to the seat and picked them up with my right hand stepping back down from the running board and with a graceful underhanded move, tossed the trash, AND THE TRUCK KEYS, into the dumpster.

Frozen in place, as if the absence of movement would earn me a “do over,” I slowly allowed myself to believe what had happened.  Hoping for the best I looked into the dumpster to see the trash from my truck perched on top of a few pieces of cardboard which were floating on a semi-liquid substance that looked and smelled like rotting slaw.  The keys were not visible and must be some where in the 4 to 6 inches of slop below the cardboard.

Looking back on this moment, I was acting and planning my next moves as if I was in my forties.  Knowing that there were no other reasonable alternatives, I placed my left foot in the welded-on sleeve used by the trash truck to pick up the dumpster.   As my right leg went over the top, I found myself balanced on the 1-inch wide sidewall that was trying to split my 200+ pounds of out-of-shapeness into 2 parts.   To escape being sliced in two by my weight on the knife-edge side wall I put both hands in front of me on the side wall with the intention of sliding my left leg over the wall and slowly allowing my legs to reach the bottom of the dumpster.  My mind did not account for the fact that, having received Social Security checks for quite sometime now, I was definitely not 40 years old and certainly did not have the upper body strength of a 40-year-old man.  “Ka-Plop,” I landed hard in the slop; was able to stay upright and was extremely grateful that no one saw that.  Having a mind that believes your 40 and a body that knows better leads to embarrassing moments.

After rooting around in the slop with a mostly clean strip of cardboard I quickly found the truck keys, shook them to get rid of the big chunks and slipped the keys into my pocket.  A quick survey reviled that there was nothing welded to the inside of the dumpster, thus no foothold, thus no easy way out.  I stood very quietly in the stench and sensed the beginnings of a grin on my face, then a smile and finally the release of laughter, belly shaking – throw your head back and let it out, laughter.  What a ridiculously funny situation.  Even though I didn’t know exactly how I was going to get out, I knew I would find a way and I knew that this ridiculously funny story about the flawed human in all of us would bring grins, smiles and laughter to those who love me for many years to come.

I tried pulling myself up and over the sidewall and the strength was just not there.  Finally, I hung on to the top of the wall as I threw my left foot over the top, and then used my leg strength to pull my upper body to the top.  I laid there, on top of the 1-inch wide sidewall with one leg dangling on each side and both hands applying a white-knuckled grip to the top of the wall.  One of the things that leave when the Social Security checks start coming is balance.  I was precariously balanced knowing that if I fell I wanted to fall out of, not into, the dumpster.  I threw my right leg over the top and held on with my hands so that my legs would hit the ground first.  It worked!  I staggered some but did not fall.  For some unexplainable reason I felt very proud of myself.  My shoulders went back and my chest went out and with a spring in my step I headed for the truck.

Having promised my oldest son, who lives in Memphis TN, that I would call him when I was on the road, I reached for the phone and speed dialed as I headed for Colorado.  He was in the car on the way to an appointment with a client and asked how my trip was going so I proceeded to tell him my Dumpster Diving in Denton story.  He began to laugh and I continued with the story laughing along with him. Finally, he is laughing so hard that he has to pull off the road.  I am telling the story and now laughing so hard that tears are running down my face when it dawns on me that life really doesn’t get any better than this.  My apprehensiveness, and misgivings about my future were gone and for that moment I was as happy as I can remember.  To be able to laugh at yourself and share that laughter with someone who loves you is a healing experience for me.  I suspect that Dumpster Diving in Denton will be just the 1st of many stories as I continue on this Primetime Journey.