October 11, 2006

Crap!

-You should go out if it's so nice, go out for a walk.
-Yes, I think I should...I'll leave now!

And so the events were set in motion for one of the most shattering humiliations suffered by The Blue Drone. I set upon what was supposed to be a leisurely holiday stroll. I crossed 16th Street, book bag slung over my shoulder, feeling quite at ease and enjoying the pleasant 70 degree temperature, and then...it happened.
Something hit my forehead, it felt warm, soft and mushy and started trickling down my glasses and down my tender blue cheek. No, this cannot be...even as I saw my vision blurred by a greenish ooze, like when horror movie titles start trickling blood, except this wasn't blood. I had been shat on by a bird...on my face.


There were many passersby, and I had to scramble and find a leaf to clean my precious precious visage, I could see them laugh at me, mock me for a tragic event that in no way I could have prevented. Just a sick sick joke that some godforsaken Starling or Sparrow decided to play on me.
Some say it is good luck to be shat on by a bird. I can see a valid point in this, since if you are defecated on...in public, well...nothing could be more ignoble, except maybe being shat on by an elephant or shit-sprayed by a hippo, which reminds me to be more careful next time I go to the zoo. And I suppose that since birds have cloacas it serves as double the humiliation...being shat and peed on at the same time.

Now, this is where I would normally start adding historical references like "The Greeks thought that bird droppings represented a so-so harvest" or "The Babylonians said that if a bird defecated on you face, it meant that you were a cuckold" and so forth. Except, I didn't find any historical references to bird droppings and luck. What I DID find instead were countless weblog entries detailing "being pooped on by a bird" experiences...and it didn't make me feel special or original...at all. Goddammit I was pooped on!!! I'm special!!! I am!! I really am!!! Am I? Not really.

So the moral of the story is this:

1. It is sometimes better to stay indoors, even if its "really nice" outside.

2. You are not special...you might think you are, but you are NOT.

3. There is no relation between bird droppings and luck, and whoever came up with that is full of (bird)shit!*

*This closing line was probably used by about 300,742 "shat on by a bird" weblog entries...DAMN YOU INTERNET!!!!

7 comments:

La Caribeña said...

Just to let you know that you are not alone in this bird shitting business... a true story for ya.
When I was living in 'Ol Blighty, on a sweet Autumn morning, I decided to go out on my bycicle for a ride, since it was nice, not too cold or too hot. So I put on my favorite white long sleeved shirt, my jeans, boots, grabbed my bike and went out.
As I was going downhill on the street where I lived, I happened to go past some tall trees, and then, out of nowhere, I felt a cold sticky substance hit me right in the middle of my face and forehead. Nice!
Black slimy shit trickling down my face..., so
I had to head back to my dorm, and when I opened the kitchen door, other housemates were in there, saw me, and burst out laughing histerically.
I went upstairs feeling humiliated by a diarrheic magpie, desperately looking for a mirror.
So, in the bathroom I go, and I saw Gene Simmons was staring back at me in the mirror.
True!
That silly magpie left me looking like he (Gene Simmons) had just finished a full house concert, and the paint got in the white shirt too.
What can I say, I started laughing at my own disgrace,
got rid of my shitted clothes, and took a warm bath.

Later on that same day, I decided to venture out, but this time, no bike, and no underneath-tall-tree crossing.

I still think I'm special or blessed, so to speak.

Anonymous said...

Magpies are evil.

Anyway, this is my entry to the club.

I was hanging with my friend Joel walking thru Rio Piedras when a nice little pigeon dropped his load on me. It was not nice, but it was funny as shit.

Months later Joel wrote a song about it.

Piensas
Caminas
Pensando en tus problemas
Una paloma blanca
Se caga en tu cabeza
Crees que el universo
se te cae encima
Que puedes hacer?
Es la historia de tu vida

- La Experiencia de Ton~ito Cabanilla$$$

I can't help but think this song was based on that little incident.

Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry babe, for making you walk into a shitstorm...

Anonymous said...

Just how nice was it outside? Irene

Annette said...

No sé qué es lo que pasa conmigo pero casi siempre que voy al Parque de las Palomas en el Viejo San Juan, me caga una de esas condenás criaturitas..... Y una vez me pasó con un chango. Verdaderamente desagradable. Aunque nunca me ha pasado que me caiga en la cara, eso debe ser horrible, a mi siempre me jode la ropa.

glandulas said...

tira

La Caribeña said...

Zángano, andas perdido...