Sandwich

Nathalie and I drove out to Pensacola this weekend to just get away from it all. Perhaps it's because I'm a pisces, or because I spent the majority of my childhood landlocked in Kansas, but I have to get close to a large body of water every so often.

But this time, I experienced a new fear that I've never experienced before. Perhaps it is silly to call it "fear". A sense of immense apprehension would be a better term.

We weren't even picnic-ing on the beach. We were just lying there, trying to either tan (Nathalie) or read (me). In fact, we had nothing that resembled anything edible. But the next thing we know, there are about 7 or 8 seagulls hovering over our blanket about 15 foot above us... prime height for poop to reach it's terminal velocity. They were soon joined by several pigeons that appeared miraculosly out of thin air. Being a mathematician on the side, I figured that with that many things hovering above us, the chance that one of those incontinent things would let one loose was high.

But what were we going to do, run like sissies? Well, yes, that's exactly what we were contemplating to do, when the birds spotted some dumb person throwing bread crumbs out at them several yards away and flew over to hover over their blanket.

Thinking you're about to be pooped on is a terrible feeling, overwrought with disgust and nausea. Thank goodness I didn't have to experience the sensation of poop landing on my head yesterday.