“Okay,” said Gino Stroffolino. “There’s this guy down in Mexico– he owes me a favor. Goes by the name of John Smith. I’ll tell him you’re coming.” “All righty, then,” Cap’m Duffy grumbled. “Southward ho.” Mexico. Land of enchantment, of enchiladas and folk art, of swaying palm trees and moonlit beaches… News of the floating garbage barge had arrived before Cap’m Duffy. As the Garbage Barge approached Telchac Puerto, it was surrounded by the Mexican Navy. “Váyase!” came a voice through a loudspeaker. “Rápido!” (That means “Get moving fast!” in Spanish.) These guys had guns. Cap’m Duffy had no choice. He turned his little tugboat around and, schlumped across the wheel, he headed back out to sea. “Where next?” the captain asked Mr. Stroffolino. “Belize,” said Mr. Stroffolino. “It’s a country. Next to Mexico. I know this guy– Rico D’Amico.” Belize. Land of bananas, of beautiful coral reefs, tropical flowers, and colorful birds… Pictures of the garbage barge had been on the local news. Cap’m Duffy had almost reached the dock when he saw a line of soldiers waving their arms. “Kungo!” they shouted. (Roughly translated, that means “Fuhgeddaboudit!”) Six weeks had passed since the Garbage Barge had set out, and the garbage was getting really funky. Nobody wanted it. And of course they didn’t! It was somebody else’s six-week-old garbage! Cap’m Duffy radioed Mr. Stroffolino once again. “I can’t take it anymore! I quit!” “Okay, okay,” said Mr. Stroffolino. “Take da garbage back to Long Island. But I gotta couple of places you could try along the way.” Texas. The Lone Star State, home of cowboys, cacti, cadillacs, and oil– black gold, they call it… The Garbage Barge arrived in the harbor near Houston only to find some Texas Rangers in speedboats shaking their heads “No!” Next stop, Florida. The Sunshine State. Home of alligators, beautiful beaches, oranges, and grandparents… The Garbage Barge was not welcome. By now, the Garbage Barge was famous. It had been on TV and in the headlines of all the papers. Comedians even told jokes about it. But as Cap’m Duffy and the Break of Dawn tugged it into New York Harbor, they were a sad sight. Cap’m Duffy’s mouth hung open. The little tugboat forgot to toot. And the Garbage Barge looked the saddest– and smelled the smelliest– of all. “Well, me mateys, here we are, back where we began,” Cap’m Duffy sighed as his two boats finally pulled into Islip’s harbor. But guess what? Islip had seen this coming. They refused to take the garbage. And the garbage was not welcome anywhere on Long Island or in New Jersey or in New York City, either. For a whole summer, Cap’m Duffy and his little tugboat tugged the garbage around New York. What else could they do? “Look mom!” kids would say. “Here comes the Garbage Barge!” As the summer days got hotter, the garbage grew beyond stinky. Someone had to take it– they just had to. Then, at last… “Good news!” said Gino Stroffolino when he radioed the tired old captain. “Here’s the deal: Brooklyn’s gonna take that garbage and burn it. A judge told ‘em they had to. See, they got dis ‘incinerator.’” “Aye-aye,” mumbled Cap’m Duffy. And on September 1, 1987, 162 days after the Garbage Barge had first set out, it reached its final harbor. Brooklyn. Former home of the Dodgers, current home of synagogues and mosques and greasy diners with breakfast specials… 3,168 tons of garbage was unloaded by cranes, put onto trucks, and hauled to the incinerator. It burned for hours, and when it was done, it only weighed 430 tons. Then it was hauled off and buried in a landfill in Islip. The town had been forced by the judge to take back what was left of its stinking garbage. Justice! The Break of Dawn and Cap’m Duffy were free to go back to New Orleans. As they steered out to sea, people waved and took pictures. “It’s a fair wind and open sea, me hearties!” the crusty old captain shouted, and he patted the tugboat on its wheel. Together they had traveled over 6,000 miles, tugging the unloved Garbage Barge. It was time to go home.