Some weirdness to start your weekend

Before I share with you how my Friday morning started let me give you a few background details so the tale can truly be appreciated.

1) I. Hate. Pigeons. Completely, totally, and unrealistically I hate these birds. Everyone knows it. I'm not quiet about it. They are rats with wings and any argument that they are cousins of the dove and I should love them will quickly get you an icy glare of death.

2) Normally I change trains half way through my commute. It's faster but also more of a pain since I give up my guaranteed seat to stand on the smelly, dirty red line. But I do it because riding all the way around the loop on the Brown line seems silly when transferring means another 10 minutes of sleep.

3) Chicago has some cool ass art sometimes. And sometimes it's just weird.

Okay, got it? Here we go.

Today I woke up exceptionally early as I am leaving for a trip home at noon and found myself overcome with giddiness and unable to sleep. I decided that tossing and turning was doing no one any good so I got up, got going, and was on the train at least 20 minutes earlier than usual. This also means that I can stay on my train and read which always excites me. Plus, I'd heard about this new art instillation piece at the south end of the loop and staying on my train means I would get a chance to see it.

So I ride all the way around, check out the big eyeball, wonder at the concept of art and then eventually get off the train at Randolph and Wabash. For those of you that are Chicagoans, or more importantly, Loop workers, you may be familiar with this stop. Like it's neighbor Quincy across the loop it is home to a whole host of pigeons at the base of the stairs. Usually the roost a good span back (unlike Quincy where I think they are actually posted guard on that freaking station) and I can sneak along the wall and avoid them. But today, alas today, I would not be so lucky.

I come ambling off the steps and stop, just out of the way of others tumbling down behind me on their way to their own Friday plans, and light up my customary morning, post train - pre work cigarette. Yes, I have a scheduled, post train - pre work cigarette. What's life without some regularity?

Anyway, as I'm standing there this scene unfolds in front of me. A man, probably late 50's, maybe 60's, wearing somewhat business like attire and carrying a briefcase stops in front of the large writhing mass of birds. He sets down his briefcase and slowly starts to walk into the middle of the flock. At this point I already know he's crazy, and since I don't want to go anywhere near him, I hold back and wait to see what happens. Once in the middle of the mass, he slowly starts to crouch down. What the fuck is he doing? I begin to wonder (my coffee free brain is at this point still working kind of slow). Then, before I can even begin to comprehend he reaches out and grabs one of the birds. Yup. Grabs. A. Fucking. Pigeon. Stands up and calmly walks back to his briefcase, picks it up, and starts to head my direction.

At this point my brain is SCREAMING to get away from this guy. I mean who randomly catches a pigeon? Is he its leader? Is he going to kill it in some weird sacrifice? Is he going to eat it? Be friends with it? Give it to someone as a present or a death threat? WHAT? I start to back up as he heads my way and I duck around the corner hoping to avoid him.

But no. My life can never be that simple can it? A fun tale about a pigeon snatcher wouldn't be nearly enough. Instead the guy turns the same corner I have (where I'm now pressed against the window of a T-Mobile store), still carrying the writhing bird and nearly 3/4ths of the flock are frantically following him. At eye level. Wheeling and diving around him. And now, because I'm stuck there, they are dive bombing all around me.

I believe this is the point where I actually started muttering out loud. And maybe it was more than muttering. Maybe it was more like "OhMyGOD OhMYGOD OHMYGOD!" and maybe I was kind of frantically spinning around trying to wave the birds away from my face. And maybe I kind of looked like a crazy person. And maybe I don't care. Because having a few strangers wonder about my flailing in the midst of my own personal 7th layer of hell reenactment is not too much to be concerned about.

So that was the start to my weekend. Hope yours wasn't nearly as traumatizing.