Last night I’m lying in bed just about to start up season 6 episode 14 of Friends, you know the one where Chandler can’t cry, when I hear Sam walking around upstairs. This is highly unusual for 10:30 PM. So I’m thinking “What’s going on?” All of a sudden there’s a knock at my door. Sam comes in and tells me there is some guy at the front door that’s pissed about some bear. Does he mean me?

So I get my PJs on and run upstairs. It’s our neighbor to the right. He looks a little ticked off. Seems the trash guys left our bin unlatched and the bears are no longer hibernating. Bad thing. See I just went through our refrigerator and pantry and threw out all of our food that would go bad or stale, which was quite a lot. There was trash strewn about everywhere including the guy’s yard.

Anyways, our irate neighbor commences to tell me about Fat Albert the 450 pound bear that frequently walks between our two houses. He explains how if a bear that size leans on his front door the bear will be in his house…and how he has a little dog and a wife inside…and about safety…and how he’s already had the police come out…and how they shone their flashlights…and…and…and. He’s an incessant talker. All I can think of is “Damn, I’ve got to clean all this crap up right now,” but the guy won’t stop yapping.

The trash guys have been leaving our bin unlatched all winter long but it never occurred to me to lock it up because the bears were never around. Obviously it’s my fault so I run downstairs throw on my shoes and grab a trash can to clean up the mess. Apparently Fat Albert dragged one of the bags about 50 yards up the guy’s stairs and onto his front porch. Funny thing was that there was a lot less trash than I threw away. Looks like our buddy bear here is fond of shredded wheat cereal, frozen strawberries, hot dogs, Cheez-Its, bread and pizza among other things.

So its pitch black, 25 degrees out, I’m in red pajamas, a t-shirt and converse cleaning up trash from my neighbor’s yard, all the while being scared shitless by any sound coming from the bushes thinking that Fat Albert is going to tear me to bits. His little dog is yelping its head off and my hands are sticky with hot dog juice and ice cream. All I can say is good last night in Aspen.