The Luckiest Girl in the World!

I am arguably the luckiest girl in the world. First, and most important, we have the fact that my husband was still available and interested when I finally decided to settle down and quit goofing off all the time. Second, I have always been in situations at the “right” time (jobs, semester abroad, selling my house, etc.). It usually seems that I make my exit at just the right time and there’s always something better waiting for me on the other side of it. No question God has smiled on me. But, there is something else that supposedly makes me lucky. So, without further ado, (no pun intended) the Bird Poop Story. This is for you Nikki.

First of all, the luck thing. I am a huge fan of The Sports Guy. He’s a HUGE Boston Red Sox fan and a few years ago when they were in the hunt for and finally won the World Series, (or it may have been one of the years prior when they got close but then got beat by the Yankees I can’t remember and of course can’t find that article at the moment) anyhoo, he got pooped on by a bird and the Sox won and so he kept wearing the shirt w/out washing it because someone had told him it was lucky. He actually went so far as to hide the dirty shirt from the Sports Gal (his wife) so that she couldn’t jinx things by washing it. So, if it really is lucky, then when you read what follows, you’ll understand why I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Incident #1: Flash back to 1998ish. I’m a student at OCU. If you’re familiar at all with the campus you know where the forum is - across from the student union and full of stinky trees (in hindsight, I think they’re Bradford Pears - beautiful, but quite smelly when in bloom). I had just eaten in the cafeteria one night for dinner and was headed back across campus to my apartment. As I walked across the road between the forum and the student union, a friend drove by and I leaned over to see into the car and talk to her. After a couple of minutes I stand up and splat. Bird poop on my shirt. Fine. D thinks it’s funny, I’m grossed out but admit it’s pretty amusing and that I’m lucky it didn’t get in my hair.

Incident #2: Flash back to 2005ish. I’m in San Antonio on a girls weekend getaway with a friend and her extended family. We’re at Market Square for lunch and shopping. If you’re familiar with San Antonio, Market Square is another place that’s full of trees so clearly I should have been on the alert. I should also note that at this time it’s June in South Texas and I’m wearing short sleeves. We had all congregated outside to decide what our plan of attack was. For some reason, no one saw what happened next. I was minding my own business, trying to decide what I was getting for lunch at Mi Tierra when SPLAT. Right on my bare arm. I was decidedly less calm this time. Lucky for me, the friend I was with also had her 18 month old in tow so she had baby wipes. I ran over and said “A, I need a baby wipe right now”. She looked at me as she started digging and asked why. I said “I’ll explain in a minute, just hurry.” Meanwhile, I’m imagining all the nasty bird diseases seeping through my skin into my bloodstream. I finally get the wipe and she watches as I clean it off and then she proceeds to dissolve into hysterics because she can’t believe I was so calm about getting bird poop on me. It’s just a good thing she was so quick on the draw with the baby wipes or there might have been a very different outcome.

Incident #3: Flash back about a month. I’m in San Antonio again. This time, on a trip with my husband to celebrate our first anniversary. Now, we’ve already visited Market Square and the ENTIRE time we were there I was on my guard, careful not to spend too much time out in the walkway under the trees where incident #2 occurred. But then I let my guard down. We were at the zoo on our last day in town. I was wearing a tank top so we’re talking lots of square inches of uncovered skin for the birds to paint a target on. We had walked waaaaaaaaaaaay back in the zoo (far away from any bathrooms) to see the elephants. I was standing there, not even under a tree I might add, watching the elephants. Suddenly, SPLAT!!!!! You guessed it. Dadgum bird pooped right on my chest, just below my neck. I actually thought at first that a large bug (think locust like) had flown into me at top speed because it actually hurt. But it only takes a split second for me to realize that no, it just happened again. Seriously? Is that even possible? I mean, not only have I just been pooped on by a bird for the third time in 10 years, but now it’s happened twice in a city that I was only VISITING. Now sure, I will admit that I’ve visited the fine city of San Antonio a disproportionate number of times but still…I digress. My sweet husband, who I love with all my heart but who unfortunately does not carry baby wipes on his person, looks at me and starts to laugh. I say “get it off”. He continues to laugh, a little harder now. “Please get it off NOW” , imagining again all the nasty bird diseases seeping through my skin. He uses our zoo map (which luckily we have not lost or thrown away) to scrape the majority of it off but then we have to make the long trek back to the main area to find a bathroom to get a wet paper towel to remove the remainder. Meanwhile, dear husband is trying to say something to me but by this point he’s laughing so hard that I can’t understand a single word he’s saying, I mean, the harder he tries to tell me, the harder he’s laughing. Red face, tears running down. This of course only irritates me further. It’s funny now though. I should note that he was nice enough to go into the men’s room (which did NOT have a mile long line of elementary school children waiting like the women’s room did) and get me a wet and a dry paper towel to clean up the mess.

Now, if that’s not lucky, I don’t know what is.