I sat in Allen Hall until I had finished the third chapter of John Grisham’s “The King of Torts”. I was tired and the cleaning ladies’ music was too loud anyway.
I got up and tossed the empty, grease-stained fry pouch and burger box in the Donald’s bag and walked towards the stairs. “Tttrash?” asked one of the cleaning ladies. Her puffy blond hair was tied back in a long ponytail.
I smiled as I turned towards her cart. Another lady came out of the classroom and stood behind the cart. Both offered heavily accented “hi’s” as I approached.
“There?” I asked and motioned with the bag. The second lady, a neck-less woman wearing bright red lipstick, nodded and pointed to the sack hanging off of the cart. She smiled as I tossed my grease sack into the indicated garbage bag. “Have a goodnight,” I said, hoping my smile would make up for my language deficiency.
The cleaning ladies gave me two toothy smiles and heavily accented “byes!” as I went down stairwell. I walked back to my car to get my hat, then back to my dorm.