The first sign that this was a serious business was a manned checkpoint two miles from the dump. A second roadblock a mile down the road re-confirmed my destination and purpose. Further down I was handed forms to complete. These were collected by a member of the Town Board, who also checked my drivers license - incredibly he recalled me immediately from a brief meeting at a BBQ on our second day in America.
I was now directed by teams of orange-clad people through hundreds of cones. Were there choppers overhead or did I imagine that? Eventually I entered a dark hangar, where dozens more orange suits and a reporter and cameraman from the local news descended on each car. It looked a bit like this. We were given strict instructions not to get out of our cars under any circumstances, and the tub was quickly removed.
After all this, I drove away with a slight sense of anti-climax. However, not before I was given a souvenir pencil and natty blue shoulder bag.
What a well organised country Would that it was the same here!
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