“Excuse me,” I said while stepping over the legs of three men who were each drinking from bottles covered in brown paper bags while sitting on a South Beach sidewalk. The warm sun was cooking the sidewalk which smelled like a combination beer, urine and sunscreen.
“Mucho gusto,” I then heard. That’s Spanish for “nice to meet you.”
Looking over my shoulder, an unshaven man followed me while pedaling a bicycle from the City’s bike-share program. “I want to be your friend.”
“No, go away,” I sternly replied. Admittedly, I adjusted my backpack and held it a little tighter and stepped up my gait as I eyed my destination. I wasn’t sure if he intended to mug me or if he was really looking for a friend.
“Mucho gusto!” He called out again.
“No!” I yelled as I watched him pedal away.
The James Royal Palm Hotel in Miami’s South Beach was my destination. It’s where I was meeting up with two out-of-town cousins who I hadn’t seen in about five years. I had parked in one of the convenient city garages ($16 for the day) across the street and although it was a hop, skip and a jump away, Google Maps routed me the long way around, which was fine. It was a gorgeous SoBe afternoon.
Steps away from the hotel and my head soaking up the tropi-cool, Miami vibe, a splat of wetness landed on my right shin. If I were in New York or Chicago I would have thought it was splatter from a street puddle. But this is South Florida and after looking at what was on my leg, I knew it wasn’t from a puddle.
Oh no. The tan, translucent liquid undoubtedly hailed from a bird. For some reason, I immediately wiped it off my leg with my bare hand which meant although my leg looked clean, my hand was covered with a thin layer of an avian bombing. As to what kind of bird targeted me I don’t know. A starling? A wild parrot? A snow bird? It doesn’t matter.
I think the world of my cousins and family and when they’re in Florida, I’ll do what I can to meet up with them. I had driven three hours across the Sunshine State for this quick rendezvous and yet the dodgiest part of the trip was walking the 7 minutes to their hotel. However, I’ve since learned having a bird poop in you is good luck. I mean, what are the chances it’ll happen? And what are the chances it would land on my leg? If I only knew, I would have purchased a lottery ticket!
At least the experience gave me a little tale to blog about, right?
Has a bird ever dropped doo doo on you?