People who know me well can tell you that sometimes the ODDEST crap happens to me. Truly. It's like I'm playing a supporting role in some universal sitcom or perhaps I'm really mean to serve as a universal Object Lesson to Others.
Because I have had exactly 4 swallows of champagne (yes, I AM a Capricorn and it wasn't an expensive Chandon, but it was on sale and I like it and therefore I shall drink it. I can pretend to be spoiled if I so choose. Nyah.) and have been thinking about my friend who just quit smoking, which makes me think of MY smoking days, and gets me feeling a little nostalgic, so I will tell the Story of the Dead Pigeon.
(I am not drunk. Not even buzzed. I heard that. I have A.D.D and am the walking definition of Random. So there.)
Anyway, once upon a time and crap like that.... I went out on my lunch break and decided that I absolutely HAD to have some McDonald's french fries. (I loooooove McDonald's fries, especially because they're kind of mooshy. Mooshy, greasy fries ROCK in my book. ) As the nearest McDs was a couple of miles away, I had to drive. No sweat there... I recall that it was a glorious day. Warm, not too humid, just fabulous. And there I am, looking polished in my suit, in my (then) brand-new Camry... I am one put-together suburbanite. Rock ON with my bad self. (BWAH hah)
Errr anyway. I lit up. I smoked, primarily in my car. (although ONLY if I was alone.) It was a huge psychological crutch for handling stress and I loooooooooooooooooooooved it. Mmmm. That first inhalation was bliss. Bliss, I tell you, even if it tasted like burning shithouse wallpaper. That's addiction.
So uh, yeah. I coasted down the overpass and slid into the turning lane to Huntington Avenue, I've got some Trance playing, and I am enjoying the HELL out of that cigarette. I'd been telling myself I really needed to quit. I understand how MUCH I needed to ditch this habit, but I just wasn't ready to let go yet.
Now... God moves in mysterious ways. I get this. But apparently He isn't all that interested in subtleties with me. I'm a little slow, you understand. I need a road map AND a flashlight.*
So there I am, feeling all right with the world... I turn left , the car moves past the possibly homeless man** standing there with his "god bless" sign and WHAMMO!!!! A pigeon flies smack into the upper left corner of my windshield. That's pretty startling but it wasn't enough, oh noooo. It was not yet A Gerbil Moment.
The speed limit on Huntington is pretty low... 25, I think. That pigeon - excuse me, EXpigeon because after flying headfirst into my windshield it was like the famed parrot of Monty Python's sketches. It was NOT pining for any fjords, it was really most sincerely dead - after impact, that pigeon tumbled, it rolled, it gently fell off the edge of my windshield.
And with my window all the way open and me leaning all satisfied and content there, what do you think happened?
That pigeon rolled right off the windshield, tumbled into the window and hit me in the everloving HEAD.
Now that will get your attention.
Shocked, horrified and disbelieving, I looked in the rearview to see the homeless guy doubled over, laughing his ASS off. Dude, more power to you. And what the hell???? Truly, something that would ONLY happen to me. I slunk back to work, feeling embarrassed because who gets beaned by dead pigeons????
Now, obviously, if I hadn't been smoking, the window wouldn't have been open and the pigeon would still be dead, but would have rolled off the car harmlessly and NOT beaned me in the side of the head.
**Sadly, this particular area was famous for people masquerading as homeless and panhandling in the median, raking in enough money in two weeks time to pay their rent. THAT's messed up. Seriously.