Being pooped on twice in less than 24 hours

If there is one thing that makes me lose my sense of humor it is being dragged into a court of law. That is why since I decided to contest a mean traffic citation I received on memorial day weekend, I have been searching for my poor, mutilated sense of humor. It is gone. Disappeared. Left me to my own unqualified devices, forcing me to look for a miracle that will bring it back from its hiding place.

I was hoping that this sense of humor of mine, which I became so attached to, would at least come to my rescue when I was found guilty by the traffic court judge who completely ignored my very astute statement, which I tried to read in a steady voice in spite of the terrible shaking of my knees and my severe heart palpitations. But no, it dug itself even deeper into the black hole it was sucked into since I saw the writing on the citation: "Failed to stop at a red light."

I had to find a healthy way to cope with the $480.00 fine which I had already paid before I was even found guilty, because that's how justice works here (they call it "bail" to make the robbery look more legal...) But I drew a blank. Because the torment was not yet over. On top of the astronomical amount I had already paid, I still had to pay for traffic school.

I guess I should have been thankful that I was not tarred and feathered and let loose on Highway 1 to scare other delinquent drivers like myself.

But, wait. I almost did get tarred and feathered.

I should have seen it coming when I saw the message from an untarred feathered creature. But as most human brains work, my brain preferred to disregard the evil omen.

As it was, the night before I had to go to court I left my car, the one that brought the citation calamity onto my life, at the parking lot of the local holistic pharmacy and went to purchase some voodoo remedies that would help me cope with the apprehension that threatened to completely paralyze me at the hearing. When I got back to my car, I witnessed something utterly incomprehensible: the car was splashed from roof to tires, front to back, windows, mirrors, and door handles with white watery grayish bird poop. It was as if a gigantic pterosaurs purged itself right on top of it. I knew there was a message in that poop, but I was too mortified to analyze it. I drove my dripping bird toilet back home and hosed it until all signs of bird poop disappeared. But the sense of doom remained. I was pooped on, a day before my appearance at the court.

Some people say that being pooped on by a bird is a sign of good luck. I never believed it. And now I believe it even less.

It was an awfully humiliating experience to contest my traffic ticket. But I did it anyway because I don't like being pooped on by bird, police officers, or traffic court judges.

I am now preparing my appeal.

Let's see what the birds are going to do about it.