Today, I watched a grown man have a conversation with a garbage can.
You did not misread that, so don’t bother going back to reread it. I always choose my words very deliberately.
I watched, from a relatively safe distance (is there really a “safe distance” from which to watch a grown man have a conversation with a garbage can? I think if you’re able to witness such a spectacle with your own eyes, you’re assumed to be too close to the danger in a situation like this. The only “safe distance” from a man talking to a garbage can is the distance from which you can no longer see him.) as this man, who didn’t even appear to be homeless, joked around with a garbage can. Yes, not only was he talking to trash, but he was laughing WITH it.
But, Mike, he was probably just on the phone- right? He was probably just standing NEAR the trash can.
That’s what I thought. NOPE! No cellphone, no Bluetooth— just a man talking to a garbage can.
Now, if that wasn’t weird enough, it gets stranger. As this man talked and laughed with a bucket of trash, he locked eyes with what appeared to be a total stranger. His smile dropped. It got quiet. Abruptly, his smile shot back on his face and he laughed as he high-fived and hugged the strange woman, who started laughing back with both the man and the trashcan, reciprocating nearly all of his energy.
The two resumed the conversation with the trash can- talking and laughing with it at full volume, like old friends.
We need to do something about the mental health crisis in NYC, because this is absurd.
Until next time,
Michael J. Erickson, CEO & Co-Founder
