After gathering ourselves on the floor of the gym for a few minutes, we decide to start walking back to the barracks. So we're walking and talking about how I'm the only one in the group who has yet to get a muscle-up (if you don't know what one is, just let me say, they suck). My buddy Tim makes a joke about how he's going to start a blog and call it "Muscle Up Quest- Jake Wood's struggle to join the club". We're laughing about that when I walk under a telephone pole.
Somewhere up above me, a conversation takes place-
Bird 1- "I bet you $50 bucks you won't crap on that tall dude's shoulder"
Bird 2- "Double it and not only will I do it once, I'll do it twice, and did I mention I ate a week old burrito for breakfast?"
Bird 1- "Deal"
So there I am, trying to explain how I'm going to join the muscle-up club on Monday, still a little nauseaus from the workout, and I get this warm splat-splat-splat on my shoulder, then my forearm, then my leg. I instantly know what it is. I'm not sure I've ever been crapped on by a bird, but once you feel the sensation, you don't even have to look and you know.
I looked down and started to lose whatever was in my stomach. Needless to say, I was on a street corner on the middle of a Marine base, MAKING A SCENE. I only had about 100 more yards to go to get to my room, but the whole time was spent lamenting my luck and trying to hold down lunch.