trysail
Catch Me Who Can
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2005
- Posts
- 25,593
I've reached an age where it's unfortunately become rare for something I read to make me laugh out loud.
I stumbled on this last night and nearly busted a gut; it made my evening. I know it's probably juvenile and relies on the sophomoric. Nevertheless, I enjoyed a couple of minutes of flat-out guffawing.
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"Katz was in a tetchy frame of mind throughout most of our stay in Paris. He was convinced everything was out to get him. On the morning of our second day, we were strolling down the Champs-Elysées when a bird shit on his head. "Did you know," I asked a block or two later, "that a bird's shit on your head?"
Instinctively, Katz put a hand to his head, looked at it in horror, and with only a mumbled "Wait here," walked with ramrod stiffness in the direction of our hotel. When he reappeared twenty minutes later, he smelled overpoweringly of Brut aftershave and his hair was plastered down like a third-rate Spanish gigolo's, but he appeared to have regained his composure. "I'm ready now," he announced.
Almost immediately another bird shit on his head. Only this time it really shit. I don't want to get too graphic, in case you're snacking or anything, but if you can imagine a pot of yogurt upended onto his scalp, I think you'll get the picture. It was running down both sides of his head and everything. "Gosh, Steve, that was one sick bird," I observed helpfully.
Katz was literally speechless. Without a word he turned and walked stiffly back to the hotel, ignoring the turning heads of passersby. He was gone for nearly an hour. When at last he returned, he was wearing a poncho with the hood up. "Just don't say a word," he warned me and strode past. He never really warmed up to Paris after that."
-Bill Bryson
Neither Here Nor There: Travels In Europe
New York, New York. 1992.