Monday, July 11, 2022

I Guy I Met On Pont Alexandre III

 It was a while back.

Maybe 2012.

I was out trolling for Pigeon Droppers (some call them ring droppers) and pickings had pretty been pretty slim.

Only two total amateurs.

I was embarrassed for them.

It seemed almost cruel to pretend that they didn't exist.

But I'm a fairly cruel person, so I pretended, that they didn't exist, ignored them and waited for my self-reinforcing result; it came; I got the always satisfying - to me - wails of "monsieur, monsieur" wailed with a Roma accent; and the rest of the day passed uneventfully.

I had been on the north side of the Seine and found myself at Pont Alexandre III; that bridge being almost always a great contact point for pigeon droppers, I turned left, and started to cross the bridge.

No sooner had I broached the bridge than I heard a basso rotundo voice: "Hey, asshole, why are you picking on the little people"?

I did a 360, looking like a 70-year-old ballet dancer who should have retired.

But at least I saw the circumference of possibilities of who the voice had been.

There was no one.

Except this guy.




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