Friday, January 06, 2006

Bird Flu

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.

4 comments:

Lindsay said...

I'm laughing so hard...thats funny shit. No pun intended.

Mark Sasahara said...

No Shit, Really?

Tricia in Kansas said...

heh heh. You got pooped on.

Mark Sasahara said...

Yes, I'm a doo-doo head.

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