If I die from Bird Flu. Or Hanta Virus, it's because a bird shit on me.
Yuck.
I was walking down my street, feeling good and looking good. I was crossing the street to go to the post office, watching traffic, but not paying any mind to the birds. I didn't even see them, being occupied with watching oncoming traffic. Large buses, trucks and cars, piloted by crazy drivers are more of a threat to soft squishy humans than a couple of birds. Unless the birds have to take a shit.
Apparently, I scare the shit out of birds. As I got to the other side, a couple of birds flew away, barely registering on my radar. Then I felt something touch my face. Immediately I knew what it was: bird shit. Dammit! I got hit on the face! Of all the places to get hit. Fucking birds. I was momentarily angry, but I shook my head and chuckled, while pulling a couple of napkins out of my coat, brushing my face off. Thankfully, only a small amount of effluent was there, and a little on my coat. But now I have the nagging feeling that somehow if it got near, or worse yet, into my mouth, I'd get the bird flu, or some other disease. Was I going to fall over dead, in twenty-four hours?
I suddenly felt the need to get some alcohol wipes to clean off my face and swab out my mouth.
I stopped for a moment by a trash can to clean myself off some more and throw away all of the soiled napkins. Then looked at my face in a parked car's rear view mirror. I had a memory of watching a homeless woman doing same thing one morning, while on a shoot in Manhattan.
I went to the P.O. and did my business and even though it might make me late, I had to go to Duane Reade and get some alcohol swabs. Maybe one of the Chinese places will have some, but I didn't see anywhere that looked likely, so I pressed on through the throng of people towards the subway and D/R. Thoughts are flashing into my mind: are there any bars, where I can just go in an get a shot? Or should I go and buy a beer somewhere? Nope. I press on towards the drugstore.
I remembered a Bird Flu news story I had seen on TV: some Chinese guy, who owned fighting cocks, died because he sucked the dried blood out of the beak of one of his beloved roosters, during a fight. Could the same happen from contact with bird poop? It didn't get in my mouth, but it was on my face. How gross.
At the store, I asked a woman stocking the shelf where to find prep pads and she told me where to go, I got my pads and walked out of Duane Reade with a box of about 100 alcohol swabs. A bit much, but I figured, if it'll prevent me from getting sick, it's worth it. The longer I live in New York, the more of a germophobe I become.
So, just outside the station, I wipe my face with the swab, and with the other side, I wipe inside the right side of my mouth. It tastes gross, but I feel better, now that I've ingested a little alcohol.
I know the chances are very low that I'll get sick, but shit, I got shit on! On the face! Fuckin' winged rats.
Friday, January 06, 2006
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4 comments:
I'm laughing so hard...thats funny shit. No pun intended.
No Shit, Really?
heh heh. You got pooped on.
Yes, I'm a doo-doo head.
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