Rain on my Parade:
This memory is not so distant. In fact, it comes from this past Monday. Before Tommy, Aimee, and I got on our way to Disneyland, we had to stop for gas. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, as I took the nozzle out from the car, I felt something hit my head. It felt like a nut falling from a tree, so I looked around to see if I could find it. Then I realized that there were no trees even remotely close, and the gas station was covered by a big platform, too. Finally, I smelled it, and I knew: I was hit by poo.
I didn't say a word after. I put the nozzle back in the pump, closed up the gas tank and door, and opened the front door. All I could do was stare at Aimee, but she was preoccupied with something else, so I just said it: "A bird pooped on me." I went over to the passenger side and she cleaned off a bit of it with Kleenex, but it was pretty clear (as can be seen in the picture) that we would have to go back to Aimee's so I could wash my hair. We did that, and it came out pretty easily, but I just couldn't believe that our trip came to a screeching halt because of my rotten luck. Aimee says that being pooped on is good luck, but only seeing that happen will make me a believer. Although we eventually got going and had a really good time at Disneyland, I don't think I'll ever forget this. I know that I certainly won't forget the smell . . .
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