Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Bombs Away!

Everyone hopes that one day they will have a claim to fame. Okay. Maybe not everyone. But put “some people” in place of “everyone” in that sentence and it makes it kind of wimpy. And grammatically incorrect.

Carrying on.

Everyone hopes that one day they will have a claim to fame. Whether that be, “I was once Miss America,” or, “I can put thirty-five marshmallows in my mouth without suffocating to death,” it is that sentence that you state and the whole room goes “wow!”

Without meaning to, I started on my legacy at the tender age of 18. Are you ready?

I have been pooped on by a bird on three different continents.

I’ll wait while you recover from your mind being blown.

But seriously, that is my claim to fame. And I will now share my tragic tales with you.

Time #3 – North America: Standing in line at the Denver Aquarium: Teeny little sparrow. Due to the previous occurrences, I was not even fazed. I felt the little poop hit the back of my hand, looked down, and thought to myself, “hmm. You aren’t even trying sparrow. That’s just pathetic. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Time #2 – Asia: Running through the streets of Calcutta, India: Albatross or bird of equal size. While in India, there were often moments of I NEED A BATHROOM IMMEDIATELY OR THIS STORY WILL REALLY STINK TO WRITE HOME ABOUT. One of those times started innocently enough, while I was walking from an internet café back to the hostel. A few minutes in to the walk I realized I needed to pick up the pace. A few more minutes it was emergency time and I started running like the world was about to end. As I was sprinting along I felt something hit my stomach and looked down. I. Was. Covered. In. Bird. Poop. The poop that I had apparently run into mid-fall from some unknown humongous bird covered me from sternum to pelvis. I was horrified, but none the less kept running because stopping would have made this story a whole lot grosser.

Time #1 – Europe: Walking under a bridge in London, England: Very sick pigeon. I was 18 and with a group of friends on our senior trip. As we were taking a leisurely walk through the city, I felt something on my cheek. At first I thought it was rain and was confused about why it was so warm. I looked down and saw that I had bird poop on my chest and all down my leg. With slowly dawning horror I knew.

There was bird poop. On my face. Bird poop. On. My. Face. Deep breath. Do not freak out. You are an adult. You are in Europe with your friends. You have to be a grown up.

“Um. Guys, there’s,” deep, shaky breath, “bird poop on my,” shuttering gasp, “face.” Everyone turns, looks at me, and then frantically starts looking for something to wipe it up. A well-meaning friend grabs a Dorito bag, out of the gutter, and starts walking towards me with it.

I spaz out. Luckily, another friend yanks me towards her and uses her sleeve to clean up my cheek and crisis is averted.   

So, my goal in life is now this - to be able to say, I have been pooped on, on all seven continents. And don’t worry; there are some horrifying pictures of penguins pooping that show that this is completely doable if I really put my mind to it.          

1 comment:

Rebecca Edlund said...

But...but...I thought your claim to fame was entirely other! Love you, Anna!