A TRAVELER WRITES: I was standing on the freezing train platform at Metropark in Iselin this morning, waiting for the Acela to take me to D.C., when a well-dressed lawyer type next to me began shouting into his iPhone. “Screw all of them!”
“So what?” he added. “Everybody has to face some tough times. That’s life. It’s not my problem!”
As his voice got louder, a young Indian woman reached over to try and tell him something.
He reacted with great irritation, pulling the phone from his ear just long enough to snap: “I’m having a conversation here. Do you mind?!”
She shrugged, backed off and looked at me with a sly grin.
Then she pointed upward.
And there they were.
Two obviously well-fed pigeons had perched on water pipes directly above Angry Man’s head. This kind woman was merely practicing the “See Something, Say Something” policy.
I quickly stepped away. Angry Man kept talking.
Pigeon #1 (I’ll call him Blueberry Boy for specific reasons) landed a perfect strike in the middle of the lawyer’s forehead.
Still not entirely aware of what just happened, the man wiped his brow with his free hand — and realized he’d just been guano-bombed.
“You are fortunate that you have no hair,” the woman said. “Easier to wipe off.”
Furious now, the lawyer glared up at the feathered poop-artist — and kept yapping into the phone.
That’s when Pigeon #2 (Let’s call him Larry Bird) dropped one, mid-sentence, into his open mouth.
Nothin’ but net.
By this time, five or six eyewitnesses attracted by the commotion busted out laughing.
I offered my handkerchief (yes, I do carry one every day), but he chose to go into what can only be described as a dead-on impersonation of my lawn sprinkler.
So I gave him my bottle of water.
The lesson, as Casey Kassem would say, is: Keep your eyes to the sky and your feet on the ground. And always carry a hanky, my friends.
Be careful out there!
Bob Michelin, an account executive from Old Bridge, often rides the rails for his job. He also keeps his eyes and ears open — and his mouth closed.