Pigeons

   Let me tell you all about why I'm awesome. You see, I have people skills. I never meet a stranger. I will contribute to a positive and upbeat environment. Bartending skills? Sure! Name a drink and I'll mix it up. No, never professionally. No, I've technically done any waitressing, but I learn skills very quickly. Yes, the majority of my working life I've repaired furniture. I really am great at what I do. But that's not really an option here. Did I mention I cook? No, not professionally, but I love it and I'm really good at that too. I'm a fast learner! I have great organizing skills....no, no I don't speak Spanish. 

   So goes the wonderful world of pimping your work self out and digging deep into your soul's pockets to grab at something, anything, that businesses will latch on to. Still no job. Everyone has just hired people, just let several go, just not so much wanting a honkey that doesn't se habla espanol. 

   I'm sitting at a Starbucks, sipping my Chai Tea Latte, using the free Internet, attempting to get as far away from the girl to my 5:00 that continues to hack her brains out. I'm contemplating ditching my work/heat friendly blue dress and this disheartening process, for my bikini in the car and the beach that sits alluringly 1 block away. 

   There's a pigeon in front of the window, and Zippideedooda is on the radio. I'm beginning to think at this point, that if there were indeed a bird on my shoulder, it would most definitely be a pigeon. And it would poop on me. My oh my not a wonderful feeling at all. Nope. But speaking of pigeons, let me talk about the beautiful experience I had in old San Juan recently. This was a few days ago. I was turning in resumes to places that won't call back because I don't speak-uh-the-Spanish. I feel like a celebrity here by the way. People look at me, with my flowers in my hair, glowing white skin that stands out like a sore thumb in the sea of caramel, face and shoulders now exploding in Summer's freckles, and (SERIOUSLY, is everyone in here sneezing or coughing?! Ugh! Stay away vacation bugs! Stay away!!) very non-Puerto Rican way of dressing like I

 -must- be here on vacation...and lost, very lost. Pigeons. I turned down a dead end street and saw a park at the end off to the right. So I decided to go. My ears were immediately flooded with distinctly southern accents. There was a tour group from a southern state that I can't remember now. We were delighted to hear one another, y'all. ;) 

   To my right, there's a man playing the accordion. Over by a wall, sits a man selling bags of corn. People everywhere are shrieking, squealing, chuckling, as pigeons lose their little birdy sanity over the corn. Any body that has limbs attached is a landing post. I am immediately disgusted and wonder why anyone would want these nasty creatures, that I just happen to love chasing, landing on them; much less to pay for the experience! But I walk around, take pictures, smile at the weirdos that have birds on pecking up their arms and landing on their heads. And then it happens. I pose my arm in such a way for that perfect shot. Suddenly I am looking a pigeon in the eyes. He has landed on the upper part of my arm. I have no corn. I just want to take a picture. But there he sits, perched on me. (Looking back, I am now convinced that this is the bird that put the magical pigeon trance on me.) Instantly, a feeling rushes over me. I start to laugh....rather loudly. And now, as I look at all these birds, I no longer am disgusted. I no longer want to chase and kick at them. I want them on MY head and arms. I NEED some corn!  A couple is leaving, and they ask if I want their leftover pigeon crack. "Yes, please!!" I screech, with childlike pleading. They hand it to me. Here they come. Somewhere, Chariots of Fire starts playing as they fly in slow motion towards me. (ChChChChhh) I'm covered in pigeons. They land on each other's heads and backs, too exuberant to even care. Hysterical laughter ensues. I try to get out my camera. The couple asks if I would like them to take my picture. "Sure!!" (Again, I am the large child.) 

My face resembles a beaver's in this shot. But this is the first, and perfectly captures the exact moment I just described. So it stays. 

   I am still at the park, dying of laughter, holding my phone. Yet another couple asks if I'd like the moment captured on "film." Isn't it sad that phrase is no longer relevant? I of course agree and try to maintain some type of adult composure for this one. 

   I empty my bag of corn and decide to finally move on. I stop to listen to the accordion player only, with no pigeon interruptions. I give him a tip. He smiles and begins to gently sway as he plays. I can tell he truly enjoys this as he puts his heart in to the song I've tipped him for. 

   I leave him with a smile and a "gracia_"(remember to leave off the "s" while in Puerto Rico.) 

   As I continue my job search for the day, I crave the thick, black, and rich espresso I will certainly be addicted to before I leave from this wonderful place. I find a tiny coffee stand in the middle of a town square and indulge myself. I finish sipping the black gold and feel it's tingly effects starting to reach my fingers and toes. The view is a flowing fountain; a couple holding one another; two older ladies enjoying a coffee break; a man playing guitar and singing; pigeons!; another man, toothless but smiling as he sells corn to smiling children; smiles.

 Just as I am finished sipping, a crack of thunder shakes the sky and there's an instant downpour. (Always carry an umbrella in Puerto Rico.) It's not letting up any time soon. I decide there couldn't be a more perfect ending to this day, so I leave my job search for another one soon, and head home. This place, it has fairy dust in it's concrete foundations. I just know it.