I’ve been batting my eyelashes at a cute new boy for the last couple of weeks. Of course Tall, Dark and Handsome (TDH) is going back to Africa this week — to work on a malaria project, no less. (See? Totally swoon-worthy.) Last night we decided to meet up for a drink before both going our own ways to Phoenix Open/Super Bowl Sunday pre-parties. I was feeling great. I wore my favorite red top, earrings from Bali, skinny jeans and was feeling on top of my game. As I strutted down Mill Avenue in Tempe, I could help but gawk at the masses of people.
There are gobs of folks in Phoenix this weekend for all the athletic nonsense. Plus, Mill runs along Arizona State University’s edge, so there are always gaggles of interesting people, meandering. The people-watching is fabulous.
Picture me, walking through all of this, killing time and waiting for TDH to show when I feel a giant raindrop fall from the sky and land on my chest. I’m standing in front of a busy Quiznos, where a group of people are sitting at the bar looking out the window while they eat their meal. I look up at the sky, realize there aren’t any clouds and then think, “Huh. That’s weird, I could have sworn I felt rain.”
Then I look down and I see it.
A giant bird took a giant poop on my head. I had bird poop in my hair, on my chest, on my shirt, and even a dabble on my pants and the jacket I was carrying. I look around in terror to see who’s seen this horror develop when I notice everyone at the restaurant with their mouths agape. Without another choice, I crack up. Hysterical laughter pours out of me and I double over at my luck. I am meeting TDH in a few minutes and have spent the last hour getting ready for the night and yet in this instant, I’ve got bird poop from head to toe and a belly full of humble pie. So much for my “top of my game” strutting. Once I start laughing, the crowd inside does too. I find my way to a bathroom, clean myself up and manage to come out and bow to a small applause before hurrying down Mill the other direction to flee the scene. I nearly tell a couple women on the street to guard their decollatage. There are some sneaky fiber-loving birds ahead.
Now I hear I should have made a wish — that being pooped on by a bird is good luck in some cultures. I wish that TDH have a safe journey, and that my life is always this silly.
~K