a penny for my thoughts

Another leisurely stroll down Moralla Ave, which becomes Government Road and something else in between. I have to placate my thirst by rehydrating and I do so by making another unnecessary purchase when I could have used the taps outside of the rest rooms, at training, for free, but I can't get out of my mind what I did to those toilets just a couple of days ago.

Vitamin water, watermelon and strawberry flavour, emmm, tastes disgusting, but it'll tide me over till I get home. Ah, home, at least a mile and a half away. I walk with my empty bottle, that I downed faster than a shot glass in front of an alcoholic during happy hour. I continue to walk and I notice a pattern forming, there continues to be no rubbish bins anywhere along the foot path.

I'm in Runaway Bay this is the rich retired Florida part of the Gold Coast, at least the multiple octogenarian in fancy clothes sightings would suggest as much. A sign to my right informs me: No dumping rubbish, maximum penalty $300. Where do rich people put there trash? I walk the entire length of my journey and there's not one rubbish bin till I'm about 2 minutes from home (yes, I live in the destitute bogan part of town). Does the threat of a fine and the absence of rubbish bins prevent thoroughfare by the poor through richman's territory. Do the rich have some kind of elaborate underground network of plastic pipes and capsules setup whereby they dispose of all the rubbish that doesn't seem to pollute their collective properties? It's classism all over again. Where's Michael Moore when you need him, shouldn't he be making a documentary about this or something?

I chuck away the bottle and shake my head, I think all this walking is getting to me just a little.