Birds and butts

Having left my inline skates at work, I was forced to travel by foot this morning.

Having neglected laundry, I wore sandals with no socks.

Having stubbed my pinky toe in this last week (in one blow, it became a bloody, painful pulp), I walked slowly and carefully.

A pigeon flew down in front of me as I walked.

What you should know: I really don't like pigeons. I'm not talking about an uncontrollable kind of loathing. It's more like a distinct distaste. I love animals in general, but specific experience with dirty, disease-ridden pigeons while traveling through Europe tainted my view of them.

This particular pigeon welcomed me to work by flying with a certain style--a celebration of it's freedom, maybe. Whatever it was, for one striking moment, I was impressed.

On the way back from lunch, some guy tossed a cigarette out of the window of his parked car. I picked it up, doused it, and carried it to the nearest trash can.

Now I'm feeling like a dork because I didn't just give it back to him.

"I believe you dropped something."

More power to smokers. It's your body, your life, and most of the time, your air.

But this guy littered on a sidewalk that was already covered with flattened butts. It's just plain ugly.

So I'm asking one very simple thing of smokers in general: please don't be lazy about your butts.

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This page contains a single entry by Jeremy published on September 3, 1998 12:00 AM.

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