On a recent vacation, I was unsuccessfully trying to reunite with my family outside a busy shopping mall and starting to get a little stressed. I was on a crowded sidewalk, in a busy city known for crime, and it was raining. I thought there was no way things could get more aggravating when something warm and solid hit my arm and shirt.

A bird had pooped on me.

Not having the kids with me, and being in a foreign country, I used a couple of words in English that best represented my feelings towards the bird and the entire situation. Being a generally positive person, I quickly recovered once I got dry, cleaned up, and had the kind of beverage you have when you've been defecated on and want to de-stress. I told the kids, who of course found it funny. I even laughed a little.

What are the odds?

Two days later, in a small beach town, my wife and I were returning from a hike. I wasn't even thinking about the poop incident any longer when something warm and solid hit my shirt and shorts.

A bird had pooped on me. Again.

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