The Art of Disney Trash Cans

I was always a weird kid. Thing is, that was okay until we hit 6th grade and puberty. Suddenly most of my friends no longer wanted anything to do with me. As they raced to grow up, I aimed for the opposite. I could see no possible advantages of growing up. Being a well taken care of kid you have it made. Something that has only been reinforced now that I am, despite my best efforts, an adult. Grasping to childhood things, I dove head on into any and all things Disney, some would say to an unhealthy degree. They may be right.

One of the quirky things I loved about Disney World was the themed trash cans. When I was in my teens in the 90s I thought it would be amazing to make a coffee table book about Disney trash cans, with beautiful full color photos, history, etc. It would also be a great marketing opportunity, especially seeing how Disney people will buy anything, ANYTHING that is Disney-related. I know because I used to be one of those people.

So, in 2003, at the age of 21, I took a semester off of college to do the Disney College Program. While there I went around with my non-digital Nikon, snapping pictures of trash cans for this future book. While other CPs were busy doing their thing in the STD cocktail that was the jacuzzi at Vista Way, I was next door at the Walgreens, visiting Hank the liquor store guy while waiting for my pictures to be developed. (I did have a lovely drunken dive into the pool there with a lovely lady once, but that’s a story for a different time.) I went back to the idea a number of times but could never figure out who to contact who would/could give a damn about my idea. And so it fell by the wayside.

I thought of it again today and starting looking for contacts at Hyperion, but then thought I should do some research to see if anything had already been done with said idea. Sadly, I am much too late. There’s no book (as far as I can tell), but a dedicated site to Disney trash cans, as well as trash can pins and salt and pepper shakers. Sigh.

He who hesitates is lost. Or, in my case, 32 and unemployed and living in a place that couldn’t be more the opposite than where I want to live if it tried. Thus to close out this idea/chapter from my past, here are the original photos I took back in 2003. I have a number from the late 90s somewhere, but for now it seems unnecessary to unearth them. (I still, however, intend to get a tattoo of the tiki guy that is on the trash can at the Polynesian.)