A pigeon, who was high up in the rafters, pooped on my head last Friday. I was at the U.S. Open in New York, watching a nail-biting 5-set match between U.S. player Taylor Dent and Spain’s Ivan Navarro. And then splat — green and gooey — on my face, white shirt and hair. Friends were quick with the napkins to wipe it off (ew!) and then of course someone said, “It’s good luck.”
Oddly enough, my close friend P. also got pooped on, by a bird, the same Friday. For her, it was in the morning when she arrived at the Detroit airport from San Francisco. She said, “My grandma told me it’s good luck, but I told her that’s just what people say to make you feel better.”
I think it’s karma cause I laughed uproariously at my cousin a few weeks ago when a seagull pooped on her at the beach.