After going through the Flying Duck car wash today (don't google it, that's how I call it, because... duck) after a bird dumped generously over our car, a number of flashbacks rushed me and I feel obligated to share them with you, as part of my therapeutic process, commonly known as "letting-shit-out". This therapy really works, so here we go again.
The year was 2007, around that time. I was living in Porto, Portugal, which is a coastal city, one of the oldest in Europe, going back to Roman Empire times. Together with its mirror city across the river Douro, named Gaia, it was known to Romans as Portuscale, which in turn would become the origin of Portugal's name. But I digress. So I was living in an apartment building dating from the 1950s, a beautiful construction with a granite stairway and ceramic tiled walls, and hard wood floors in the apartments, right in one of the city's old downtown districts. Now if you ever lived in a coastal city or town, with the inevitable seafaring community of fishermen, you realize where this is going. You got it. The fucking seagulls.
We all like to wash our cars, even if once a year, so you know how cool they look after a good shower, and nothing is more infuriating than having your car spanking clean and shiny and out of nowhere comes this bird fucker and shits all over it. Well, folks, if you never lived near the sea you may not realize this, but of all God's creatures that are endowed with flight and shitting capabilities, the motherfucking seagulls are the worst. They are the fucking bombers of shitting birds, and if you do live near the sea you better have a fucking garage. I did. But they were always eyeing my fucking car and the minute I parked by the sidewalk and ran in to get something real quick, sure enough by the time I got back they had already shat all over the damn thing.
People who know me say I suffer from Yossarian complex, but I swear they were really after ME! And one day, the inevitable happened. I had parked the car in the garage and was going home, when, as I entered the building's foyer, I heard the distinct "meek, meek" of a seagull. And it was coming from inside the building! So I stopped and waited. "Meek", the darn thing went. And I was like "Where the fuck are you?" and I slowly walked to the door that led to the building's atrium, opened it carefully... And there it was! One of those fuckers that kept watch over my car had fallen from the roof into the atrium! It was a VERY small atrium, I have no clue why it was built that way, except for architectural necessity. I closed the door behind me. The confounded bird was standing on a corner and immediately sized me up as I went in. It was a big motherfucker.
Now seagulls are excellent flyers and gliders, but once they land they look like drunk turkeys, if turkeys were that size, and they need a fucking runway to take flight, so that poor fucker was trapped. The atrium was too small for it to take off. I am a witness relocation kind of guy, my wife will attest to this, and I always carry every living thing inside the house back outdoors where it belongs. Well with the exception of flies and mosquitoes, with those I switch from witness relocation officer to terminator mode and really exterminate them. So, I was looking for an angle to get the damn creature out of the atrium and back on the street. I actually made a shy attempt to capture it, kind of like you would catch a cat, or a dog, but the fucker was big and it was not having it. I would move to it and it would go "MEEK!" and open its wings and beak. It was a big beak! That thing would fuck me up. So I retreated momentarily, closed the door, and went upstairs to my apartment to get a broom.
I got back downstairs, armed with the largest broom I had, opened the building's main door that led to the street and convinced myself this was going to be easy peasy. I went back to the atrium, this time leaving the door open, and the bird immediately started "meek meeking" at me, in a defensive stance as I moved around it, keeping it at bay with the broom, gently ushering it towards the door.
As it got there, it went into the foyer and took a few steps into it, looking around. I turned to close the door, and in that split second, the fucking thing from hell made an executive decision and rushed upwards, half running half flying up the stairway! Well fuck me! I ran after it with the broom, yelling at it, calling it every slur I could think of as it was shouting back loud "Meeks" at me, probably returning in kind. As the chase unfolded, one of my neighbors came to his apartment door, probably startled by the racket, just as the fucking seagull had cleared the previous flight of stairs. He opened the door and the bird saw an opening so it went straight to it, with me in close pursuit, wielding the broom.
"SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR!" I yelled at him as the bird was hurling to it, as the bright light coming from inside the apartment, contrasting with the dim lighting of the stairway provided by the skylights above, looked like a way out. So the friggin' seagull was going for it like "Freedom!!", my neighbor was frozen in disbelief, and I was running after the damn thing swinging the broom. "SHUT THE DOOR!" I yelled again, and that made him snap out of his daze and slam the door on the birds face! It went against it with a huge thud and fell back in disarray, and that was my chance! I quickly went over it and started pushing it downstairs, this time less gently. Finally, I managed to get the damn thing out of my building, and the minute it got out, it clumsily ran its required roll to take off, taking to the skies to shit another day. Damn!
Now these things shit like no other creature can. I mean huge dumps. And in Porto, they fight for air superiority with the thousands of local pigeons, which are pretty awful shitters in their own right, but not even close. It's like comparing Piper Cubs to Flying Fortresses. So inevitably, the carpet bombing will hit you one day, and one of those days it happened just as I was with these two beautiful Dutch girls I met downtown. This was like 1989. I was showing them around the city, trying to figure out how the hell I could fit them both onto the very small 50 cc motorbike I had at the time, and just as I was pointing out to them one of the city's architectural wonders, out of nowhere "PLOP!" But you have no idea. It was huge, even for a fucking seagull! And it had hit one of the girls right on top of her head!
So there I was, cut mid sentence, arm still stretched out towards the fucking building I was pointing out, her friend with her hands covering her mouth, trying not to burst out laughing, and the poor bombardment casualty just standing there, the big poo stain on her head like she had been hit from above by an ostrich egg, the goo dripping over her shoulders and chest, muttering something in Dutch, I imagine it was "What the fucking fuck!?" or something like that. I reached inside my pocket for the clean (expensive) cloth handkerchief I always carry because, you know, ladies may need one, and very carefully proceed to clean the muck from her hair, forehead, face, neck... And then I handed her the damn thing so she could clean her shoulders and chest. I told you I am a gentleman. And as such, I will not reveal the rest of this particular episode.
Seagulls are not from this planet. They are fucking aliens who shit acid that corrodes your clothes if you don't immediately wash them. And what are the odds you get hit next to a laundromat. They are also the monkeys of the sea. They eat EVERYTHING, including money and your phone, if it's small enough. Have you ever seen those videos of tourists having a meal outdoors in certain parts of Africa, where the monkeys start gathering around to try and get some food from them? That's what seagulls do! Back in 1996, I was with a friend in Vigo, a coastal town in Galicia, part of Spain, just North of Portugal, and we stopped to have lunch at this great restaurant, right by the sea, overlooking the docks. I love paella, which is a typical dish made with rice, saffron, chicken, vegetables, and seafood, served in the same frying pan where it was cooked.
So the waiter comes with my precious paella, and immediately I start hearing the fucking "meek, meeks" coming closer. We were sitting outside, by the pier's boardwalk, a few feet from the water, and there were plenty of seagulls flying around, but as certain as the sun coming up each morning, suddenly there were like 30 of these fuckers landing nearby and walking towards us. I started eating, keeping an eye on the stupid things, as they were getting more restless and bold, "meek meeking" their wobbling way to our table, and suddenly, one of them jumped on the rail next to our table. They don't fly from the ground onto rails, they JUMP on them like fucking monkeys! And this particular one was after my paella. I start eating faster, convinced the dreaded bird was going to attack my dish, and just as I had the final piece left it just made its move. I barely had the time to take the plate away and as I did so, the damned thing hit the table, slid across it and dropped on the other side, taking a glass or two with it. As it stumbled away in shame, it "meeked" back at me in anger. "What the fuck you mean MEEK MEEK! Go fish, you fucker!" I yelled at it.
So there you go.
Next time you see a seagull, know they are really alien sea monkeys from hell who shit acid all over you and your car in ungodly portions and can steal what you are eating, or just generally holding, in a flash. You have been warned.
Peace out.
[finis]
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