Weird Stuff You See ... Running Thread

Somebody just called demanding their Sunday paper... at 12:31 a.m.

 

I'm waiting. *tapping foot*

 

That transition made me laugh.

 

Hey, blow it out your ass! I liked the chair.

 

I can't tell if this is weird shit you've seen on the road or weird people ...

No weird people jump immediately to mind, but an eccentric one pissed me off to no end during the late fall.

Where I'm at, our city gets invaded by crows when it starts to get cold. It's like blaxsploitation version of The Birds for a few months, the sky literally runs black with them.

They're particularly keen on the (flat) roof of our building and the trees in the neighboring blocks. Apparently, once crow season ends, our custodian gets the unenviable task of bird carcass removal from our roof, as for most of the winter, it's like a Pedro Martinez-Juan Marichal night out in the Dominican Republic every day up there. I hear the fuckers fighting to the death right above my office frequently.

I often have to confront the crows when going to lunch or to practice for my beat. To date, I've successfully avoided getting shat upon while going from office-to-car, but though I may have a Paul Molitor '87-like hitless streak going, I know damn well I'll never get to Joe DiMaggio '41 in the bird shit department. I'm going to get got one of these days.

I thought that day was sure to arrive last fall. As I entered our windowed exit/entrance, I did my obligatory look to the sky. If there is a flock of crows, I wait them out, not unlike you would wait out lightning in an electrical storm. No way I'm going out like Willie Lump-Lump in the middle of birdshit no man's land.

But as I embarked for a game on this fair day, the crows were all content to hang out in the trees across the street. The sky was blue and my path to the car was clear. It was like Christmas on the Western Front circa 1914.

Until Gerald McFuckhead decided to ride by on his bike across the street. I'm pretty sure his name isn't Gerald McFuckhead, but he was one of those eccentric types, possibly homeless I suppose, who rides around town on his bike collecting shit.

The crows were perfectly content to ignore him, but he was apparently as paranoid of them as I was. So he starts doing this pitch-perfect pigeon coo to shoo them as he rode by. And shoo they did. Right in my direction.

I was fucked. I was too far out into the parking lot to make a run for it back to the entrance and my car was too far away to avoid the crows Panic set in. Do I yell at the dude on the bike to stop? Tempting, but too late for that. If you can't fight, then flee.

And I did. I sprinted like Carl Lewis on the narcotic from Alien Nation towards my car, bulky-ass laptop bag painfully slamming into my body all along the way.

I was in the shit ... literally ... I could audibly hear the sickening plop of birdshit hitting pavement. It wasn't a matter of if, but when, and I prayed to the God I believe in, "Please, just don't make it a head shot. I don't have time to go back home and shower."

After that moment of weakeness, I thanked God for my keyless entry. In full sprint, I unlocked the door, opened it with my left hand, winged my laptop bag into the passenger-side seat with my right hand, and as quickly as possible, got in a turtle position as I ducked in the car to avoid the dreaded head shot.

Safely in my car, I detected bird shit smell and feared the worst. But upon inspection, I never got hit. Crow fail never felt so good. The apartment scene from Pulp Fiction and every scene from Star Wars where Luke, Leia and Han Solo never get plugged by crack Stormtroopers made so much more sense now.

I had walked between the raindrops of crow shit.

 

didn't see northern exposure often, did you norman?

 

I lived in Pennsylvania for a couple years, and it took me a day to realize I wasn't in New York any longer. I pulled into the Wal-Mart and parked my car, got out and walked past a couple horse and buggies then saw a few Mennonites walk past me. I called my best friend and left him a message: "Dude, I'm definitely in Pennsylvania ... here's how I know. ..."

 

I've seen horse and buggies in New York, it's definitely not something relegated to PA.

 

I was crossing a busy street which had a pedestrian controlled intersection (you know, you push the button to make the lights change). This teenager just ahead of me walked over to the button and pressed it continuously for at least a minute. I mean, he pushed that button at least 100 times.

When he finished he stepped away from the button and the lady next to me stepped up and pushed the button. I was tempted to ask her if she thought the kid hadn't done it right.

 

When I drive the back way to work, I go through this little town (population less than 500). The town has a huge sign as you get to the "main drag" that reads "_____TOWN: NOW WITH SEWER!"

 

every now and again i watch the basket people walk around and mumble, and stare out at the auburn sky.

 

I've seen them there, too, and in other states. But that moment clicked the realization for me.