Walking down the street.

It’s something we New Yorkers do for hours every day. Probably for longer than we eat. We dodge many obstacles including dog poo, construction, other people, and of course….pigeons.

Pigeons. New York Pigeons. They are extra-filthy, and as hardened and bad-ass as any city dweller. Which is why they enjoy flying very close to your head and refusing to move when you walk towards them.

Yesterday I played chicken with a pigeon on the sidewalk. I strode towards him. His little beady pigeon eye met mine. I kept walking and he suddenly began to walk towards me.

“Oh shit.” I thought “It is ON now, pigeon. You’re fucking with the wrong girl.”

We walked toward each other, firm, unyielding. Granted, I did most of the walking, seeing as my steps are about 500 times larger than the piegons. It was like a terrible parody of a Western. But damn, I must tip my hat that pigeon did not falter. We came to within 12 inches of each other. I could in theory have stepped on the pigeon and squashed him. But that ain’t my style. So I swallowed my pride…and side-stepped to the left. I stood down.

The pigeon had won. Though I am a giant, he refused to move. That is balls. Pigeon balls.

Well done, Pigeon. Well done indeed.