Thursday, October 18, 2007

Fall Carlisle, PA Car Show - What A Crappy Time

Tom and I took a day trip to the Carlisle, PA car show the end of September. It's a three hour drive from our home through the Allegheny mountains.
You never know what the weather is going to be like at that time of the year. We've been going twice a year for the last 15 years or so ( Spring and Fall) and we're always prepared. We bring along jeans, jackets and umbrellas just in case the weather turns foul.
This trip I would have welcomed some 50 degree weather. It was in the upper 80's but felt like mid 90's and was so humid. I had planned on doing some major walking since I'm so out of shape from not walking all summer long ( again, the very hot weather) but it wasn't to be. I was melting. I needed shade. The shade wasn't much better temperature wise, but at least the sun wasn't cooking me from the inside out.
Hot weather and humidity does not bother Tom. In fact he relishes it. He's a letter carrier and would rather walk in the heat and humidity than in the snow and bitter cold below zero temperatures.
I'm no glutton for punishment so I let Tom do his thing and walk around the fairgrounds in search of his 'treasures' while I sat in the grandstands and read my paperback that I brought along. The grandstands was shady, but the heat still penetrated. While I was sweating, I wasn't cooking from direct sunlight.
I found myself a nice spot along the left side of the grandstands. There are benches but no backs and since my back has been giving me trouble, I thought I'd lean against the side of the end of the grandstands to help give me some support.
Shortly after I sat down, a woman who appeared to be around my age sat right in front of me. She was fanning herself with her hand and commented how 'freaking hot' it was. Ahhhhhh so it's not just me. I put my book aside and we got into a conversation.
She was very nice and I was enjoying talking to her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something fly over the grandstand, it was dark and looked like a small stone and it hit my new friend on top of the head. You could hear the 'plunk' sound it made. She said 'ow' and put her hand up to feel the injured spot and her hand came away with gunk all over it. GUNK??? Ewwwww.........upon closer inspection it turns out she wasn't hit with a flying was bird poop.
It wasn't white bird poop mind you. I'm an expert on bird poop, I've been pooped on several times in the last few years. Oh yes. No, it wasn't white. It was brown......and it looked very much like diarhhea. Very disgusting and I almost lost my breakfast. I have no clue what kind of bird poops brown diarhhea but my new friend didn't really care what kind of bird it was, she just wanted IT out of her hair. She was lucky because I just happened to have some napkins in my purse from breakfast that morning. She had a half bottle of water so we soaked up some napkins and I began cleaning her head. Or I tried to. It seemed I was making it worse. I tried very hard not to gag. It was slimey and it just did not want to be removed! At one point her cell phone rang. She answered and it was her hubby. He was walking down an aisle near the grandstands and happened to look up and saw some strange woman ( that was me ) playing with her hair. She explained that a bird s**t on her and this nice lady ( that was me) was helping her to get it out of her hair. After dozens of swipes with the wet napkins and she even used her fingers a few times, we got most of it out. She was very appreciative and thanked me profusely for helping her.
I'm glad I was there for her. As I said earlier, I'm an expert on being crapped on , literally. We go to the Jersey shore every year for two weeks and at least once or twice every couple years, the Gods deem it 'Time To Poop On Neenee'.
One year the motel we were staying at had free hotdogs at noon on Wednesdays.
We were standing in line and I noticed some kids on the 2nd floor throwing a ball down to the ground floor. As I'm talking to Tom, I get a thump on the head. It actually hurt, felt like a rock hit me and I assume that it was the ball the kids were playing with. It felt weird though, so I put my hand up to my head and it came away with some slimey white goo and when I realized what it was ( seagull poop) I started gagging. Well, after seeing that, I was no longer wanting a hotdog, all I wanted was to get up to our room and wash my hair! Which is exactly what I did.
Oh, did I mention that Tom thought it was hysterical? Or that he may not have been pooped on that year, but the following year, the Gods deemed it his turn........he he he.
Back to my story. So we got most of the poop out of my new friend's hair. There was still a trace of poop that was stubborn but she was okay with that since her hubby was coming for her and they were ready to head back to their motel where she could shower and shampoo. Had I been the one to be pooped on, I would have had no one around to help me ( that's my kinda luck) and would have had to wait for Tom to finish his treasure hunt plus a three hour drive home before I could wash that poop right outta MY hair.
When Tom had decided it was time to get out of the blaring sun into some shade and drink a cold Coke, he joined me at the grandstands. I introduced him to my friend and Tom, being the kind of guy he is says to her ' Boy, you're brave, anyone who sits near Denise usually gets crapped on' which was 'ironic' because he had no idea that's exactly what happened! When we told him..........he moved three rows back.

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