Homer could feel the chill on the side of his neck, smell a slight whiff of the ocean, and hear the intermittent rumbling of heavy trucks driving past. He was near the harbor, he deduced. He wondered whether he was closer to Long Beach or San Pedro. He knew the air was moving past too slow for him to be on the freeway.
 
"You can open your eyes now," a voice at the driver's seat said.
 
Homer didn't recognize where it was at first sight. It was a weird place for a first date.
 
Earlier that evening they had met up in some nondescript strip mall in the vast expanse of Los Angeles County. When Homer opened his car door for Ada, she hopped in and said "You're being kidnapped. Get in the passenger seat, close your eyes, and don't open them again until I say so."
 
They switched places in the car, Ada around the front and Homer around the back. And then Homer had closed his eyes.
 
As they drove on Homer saw they were on State Route 1: the Pacific Coast Highway, the mother road of California. "Oh, drat," Homer heard Ada say, "we'll park at the McDonald's across the street and then walk across."
 
As Ada turned around, Homer asked "What are we doing?"
 
"What do you think I gave up my girl privileges for? We're going diving through Ma Bell's trash!"
 
"Why?"
 
"Each exchange has certain access numbers it uses to check if it's properly connected to other exchanges. If we find some discarded memo or other, we can know what it is, and use it to make free calls."
 
Ada parked. They got out and walked into the McDonald's. In an attempt to salvage his dignity, Homer pulled out a half-dollar coin and ordered a milkshake for each of them: vanilla for Ada, strawberry for Homer.
 
They walked outside as they were slurping their milkshakes. Homer finally saw their target: a central office with a stylized image of a bell on the side, with the inscription "Pacific Telephone and Telegraph Company." "Now what we want to look like is a telephone operator and an engineer out for a roll in the hay. We're not wearing the Bell System uniforms and so if they shine a spotlight on us we're done. But we could have dressed a lot worse. Nice tweed jacket, by the way," complimented Ada.
 
"Nice skirt," reciprocated Homer, "are you sure that's going to work?"
 
"Don't lie," giggled Ada, "don't you want to get close to me?"
 
As they got on the other side of the road Homer noticed the movable panel of chicken wire that divided the parking lot of the central office from the highway. "Time to go back to gym class," teased Ada. She had downed her strawberry milkshake by that point and so had Homer. "Can you find a trash can? 'Only break one law at a time', after all."
 
"Shouldn't we see if there's any guards? I'll go find a wastebasket while you look out." Ada handed him her milkshake. "Actually, why do we need to find a trashcan anyway? We're going to someone else's trash!"
 
"And leave something with our fingerprints all over it when we're done?" Homer objected.
 
A low, whitewashed wall topped by chicken wire was on either side of the gate. Ada began to crouch military-style. "It'll look suspicious if you're crouched by the gate like that. How about those shrubs," Homer pointed to her left.
 
Homer walked to the pedestrian crossing they had just used three minutes ago. A wastebasket was attached to the "WALK -- DON'T WALK" crosswalk sign. Homer threw in the milkshakes and walked back.
 
"I didn't hear any movement," said Ada, "let's move."
 
They scaled the low wall. As they were straddling the top of the chicken wire, Homer made to jump off but was quickly restrained by Ada who put her finger to her lips and pointed at her sandals. They scrambled down the chicken wire until their feet reached the whitewashed brick wall. "Alright, let's go."
 
The maintenance trucks and the employees' cars concealed them as they moved quickly across the parking lot. At last, they came to the back door of the office. A sign read "GARBAGE COLLECTION ONLY". Through the sidelights in the door Homer could see fluorescent lamps illuminate several big garbage bags.
 
"Is the door locked?" Homer asked, "I don't want an alarm to sound as soon as it opens."
 
"Not when I've been here before, no," reported Ada.
 
Carefully, Homer pushed open the door. The garbage disposal room was not longer than ten feet and no wider than the two of them abreast. A door was at the end of it, presumably leading to the interior of the facility. "Let's grab two bags and get the hell out," commanded Ada.
 
They each grabbed the garbage bags nearest to them. Homer felt his. There didn't seem to be any food or other "wet waste" inside. "Now here comes the hard part," said Ada.
 
They got out the way they came lugging their bags. No one saw them. When they got to the whitewashed wall they threw their bags over and heard the soft thud of them landing on the grass on the other side.
 
"Thank goodness," said Ada.
 
"Who's there?" someone cried. 
 
"It's from outside the wall," judged Homer.
 
The voice got closer to investigate.
 
"Those damn fools from Ma Bell can't be bothered to put away their trash in the right place."
 
"Is he going to--" Ada shushed Homer.
 
"I'll just bring 'em onto the sidewalk."
 
They breathed a sigh of relief.
 
When the footsteps died away they climbed back over the chicken wire and landed on the grass. A few yards away on the sidewalk were the bags. They grabbed the bags and walked to the crosswalk and came face to face with two police officers.
 
"What ya doing with them?" challenged one.
 
"This one's full," Homer pointed at the trashcan at the crosswalk, "we're finding another place for our trash."
 
"Carry on," his partner said as they walked away.
 
They crossed the road, threw the bags into the backseat, and drove to where Ada's car was parked.
 
That night, Homer's subconscious let out what his conscious mind had been keeping in all day, and left the latter with the laundry bill.