I'm officially an old man: I look forward to complaining about the litter at the bus stop in front of our house. When I turn the corner from Olive onto 23rd, I have a look and sternly say out loud, "What savages!" when I'm by myself. I no longer say it when my wife is with me in the car, because I'm sure she's tired of hearing it.
When we rented this home the landlord didn't disclose that there would be necessary daily garbage pick-up at the bus stop. When she stopped by six months after living here, I felt bad that I'd skipped a few days and I'm sure she saw the mounds of Mounds wrappers. "There's always so much garbage at the bus stop," I said to her. "I know," she replied. "I tried to get the city to put a can there for years."
Over the winter somebody was throwing black plastic bags of dog shit into the bushes. At one point, there were at least 50 of them. I didn't know what to do, so I collected them all and put them in a pile at the base of the bus stop pole. I didn't think a sign would work, but I guess a person seeing what they created was enough. The inventor of dog shit mountain no longer uses the bushes for disposal.
Sometimes on my way to Safeway, I get in a huff and kick the garbage into the street. Never glass, usually just Safeway food containers. That's certainly the reason for all of the garbage: the bus stop is the closest one to Safeway going in that direction on 23rd. People buy bags of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and bottles of Sobe and wait for the bus. If they finish the contents before the bus arrives, the packages drop out of their hands like they're dinosaurs moving on to the next things to eat.
I only venture into the bushes every month or so. There are condoms and needles in there. It must be a really good place to party.
This just in! I just filmed some miscreants tusslin' at the bus stop: