Trashy.

So CCU has this time-honored club that meets once every Tuesday to do an extremely important task.  Steeped in legend and tradition, this club is named after its primary purpose - taking out the trash.

Thats right, all you UNR/Nevada-livers!  I joined the Trash Club!

My first run with the TC was amazing... right up my alley.  We began here in The Ghetto, with our chant - "1, 2, 3, 4, get that trash up off the floor!  5, 6, 7, 8, break that bag and separate!  Trash Club! Trash Club! Traaaaash Club!"  And then we began.  The technique is simple: divide into three groups, each one in charge of a floor.  Once you get all the trash off that floor, you call out "clear!"  And then you run and slam-dunk the trash into the pickup truck.   But there's more than that...

You see, the Trash Club has multiple amazing rituals.  First off, every time we go to a girls' stairwell, we either sing a song or perform a skit.  Here's an example of one of the skits:

It's called "Starcrossed Lovers."  (The entire thing was done in beautiful, fluent Spanish.)

Two of the guys lay on the table, embracing.  The rest of us stand in a line off stage.  The first person walks up and calls out incredulously, "Francisco? Laurita?"  The two sit up, startled, and reply, "Taco!  Taco, burrito, burrito!  Gato!"  The intruder, horrified, yells out, "Gato?  Taco taco!  Quesadilla taco!"  The second person (me) walks up and began yelling, "Que hay debajo del sombrero?  Taco quesadilla!"  The yelling match continues for several minutes until the final person walks in and calms everyone down.  Once we all stop yelling, he says, "Chipotle!"  And everyone laughs outrageously.

Next we arrived in front of the Junkyard, and I was told the story about The Secret:  Once, there was a young man who wanted to know the secret that separates men from women.  So the boy left CCU to go on his journey.  He walked through the freezing north, across the blazing desert, over the highest mountains, through wide valleys, past a huge forest, and finally he came to a monstrous plateau.  Once he scaled the plateau, he looked around and suddenly discovered the secret!  Excited beyond belief, he sprinted back past the forest, through the valleys, over the mountains, across the desert, and was almost back to CCU when he vanished.  No one has seen him since, and the secret disappeared along with him.  But its said that on cold, dark nights such as this one, you can hear him whisper.

Everyone immediately froze, dead silent and listening.  Then they jumped suddenly.  "I heard it!" One said excitedly.  We all listened again, and everyone whispered, "we've got junk."  "What?" the storyteller said.  And they repeated, "We've got junk, we've got junk, we've got junk, we've got junk!"  They repeated over and over, slowly growing in volume.  Soon they were yelling, and in between each "We've got junk!" The story teller would point to the Junkyard behind us and yell, "Yard!"  Then we all yelled and did our chant again.

Yeah.  Awesome.  But it gets better!

After we finished the freshman dorms, we parked the truck and everyone began shouting, "To the land of milk and honey!"  And leapt from the truck, running.  We marched up the stairs of the first upperclassmen housing unit, La Plata, stomping as loud as we could and banging on the walls, chanting in rhythm.  We reached the top story and found only one door open.  Entering, we found a table full of cookies, chocolate wontons, and Kool-Aide.  We the feasted, and I was told the story of the Great Wise Eagle.  (It's too long and too mystical to be put in a blog.)

Lastly, we split up to cover the remaining four upperclassmen apartment complexes.  I was with two guys, Eli and Chris, and upon entering the second story of Kit Carson, we were faced with virtual mountains of garbage.... it was a trashy night.  On our second trip down the stairs to the dumpster, I was told the last and most amazing story of the night - the story of the Great White Wilkin.  

The Great White Wilkin was the greatest trash clubber to ever pick up a leaky bag of old Chinese food.  He stood 8 feet tall and had old soda cans for teeth.  He could carry 50 bags of garbage on each finger, and on one blizzarding night when the temperature was -13, he cleaned out every single stairwell and upperclassmen complex alone, because everyone else was sick with pneumonia.

After this, we drove by the dumpsters and deposited all the stinking garbage, with many truck-to-dumpster leaps and pile drives.  It was pretty much an amazing night, and I can't wait until next Tuesday, when I'll dawn my Mexican Luchadore mask and take ti the trash once more.

Byah!