That's not the Recycling man...

"Faith."
"What?" I answer. It is 11:30 pm. Sarah is on the other end of my small Korean cellphone. 


"I have a recycling man."


This is obvious. Koreans as previously stated like to "recycle" ie make trash piles because no one thinks a bin would reduce garbage....In each apartment building their is an annoying regulation to sort out garbage into the appointed waste recepticials. So when producing garbage, the foreigner thinks...when is it best to go downstairs? When will I not be scolded in a foreign tongue for the mis-sorted egg container? And if I wait until dark has fallen will the cockroaches (baceeebowlee') eat my face off when I open the dreaded food waste container that is of course too small for the entire apart to use? 
So I understand instantly.


"Yes, I imagine you have a recycling man." (I've seen mine once or twice, when I do I cover my face, pretend I'm a ninja, and slip away. He is a sour looking little man)


"Faith." Sarah pauses for a beat. "He is outside my apartment door."


"Ok, what is he doing?" I ask staring at my four walls. (my apartment is small so it is easy to do.)


"He is ringing my buzzer. I can see him on my video monitor...He's probably mad because I sorted wrong." Sarah rambles.
"Sarah. No."
"No what?"
"That's not your recycling man."
"What do you mean?" Sarah asks.
"I mean he's drunk and ringing you. It's late."
"Mate, why did you tell me that?" Sarah sighs.  "You mean some drunk ajushui is outside my door?"
"Yes." I laugh. I'm trying hard not to. 
"How Dare he." 


Indeed. The man eventually went away, but the situation left it's mark on Sarah. A week later, Sarah and I are walking to dinner.
"Mate I need to find a bin." She says. Ok I start looking, and finding a trash can in K-town can prove complicated. 
"Can you wait until after dinner?"
"No..."
"Why?" 
"I have a frozen bag of food garbage in my backpack. I need to dump it."
I look at Sarah and she explains. "So I've been afraid of my recycling man. So I now dump my trash in subway bathrooms." 
I note the multiple use of the bathroom. "Well," Sarah explains. "They have cameras everywhere.  So I get off at different stops and dump my garbage." 
I picture Sarah ducking in and out of restrooms and getting on and off the train. I laugh loudly. "Is that why you were late today?"
"Yes, mate it is."