I’ve lately been so distracted by a number of unwanted mysticisms, foremost of which are academic sojourns and mental typhoons, that I’ve almost forgotten about this gem of an experience. Trust me: You don’t know what “trauma” means unless a bird’s attempted to attack you.
We were walking along the Faura sidewalk across Robinsons on our way back to CAS for the Nat Sci class. But what should have been a rather boring talky walk turned out to be one hell of a blast-ended skrewt.
Our feet brought us to this certain spot somewhere near the Supreme Court gate, where I observed a few rather irritable, low-flying sparrows. We ignored them, presuming (as human nature would have us presume) that the birds would just mind their own nonhuman businesses and fly away. And fly away they did.
But how on earth was I supposed to know that one of those blasted birds was actually brave enough to stand a few feet away from us, directly on our path??? And the worst part was, upon sensing our approach, it took off like an airplane - diagonally upwards, directly headed towards…
ME.
Well, my forehead (we must give due credit to the most victimized of the victims).
It was probably the biggest “What the Heaven” moment in all of Manila: a seemingly brainless bird, its tiny but nonetheless deadly sharp beak aimed at my forehead!!! And what was I to do but make this sort of backward dance move like in The Matrix?! Otherwise, I would probably have found myself in PGH with a stupid bird stuck on my forehead, struggling to wrench itself off my head – or worse, with a tiny bleeding hole on my forehead.
If you’ve seen those Japanese fighter planes make nasty nose dives in those World War II films, then you should somehow be able to visualize the damn bird – only it’s headed up instead of down. Why did such misfortune befall me; why was I cursed to be victim of a failed bird attack?
Theory No. 1: The brain sensed its nest in my head; in other words, I may be bird-brained.
Theory No. 2: The bird was a rogue bird, much like the rogue bludger in HP Chamber of Secrets.
Theory No. 3: There’s a secret mafia of birds, now in the move to gradually eradicate homo sapiens.
Dammit, I couldn’t think properly afterwards. Trust me, you wouldn’t have been able to. The thought of injury by bird... blasted, hell-sent bird!
We were walking along the Faura sidewalk across Robinsons on our way back to CAS for the Nat Sci class. But what should have been a rather boring talky walk turned out to be one hell of a blast-ended skrewt.
Our feet brought us to this certain spot somewhere near the Supreme Court gate, where I observed a few rather irritable, low-flying sparrows. We ignored them, presuming (as human nature would have us presume) that the birds would just mind their own nonhuman businesses and fly away. And fly away they did.
But how on earth was I supposed to know that one of those blasted birds was actually brave enough to stand a few feet away from us, directly on our path??? And the worst part was, upon sensing our approach, it took off like an airplane - diagonally upwards, directly headed towards…
ME.
Well, my forehead (we must give due credit to the most victimized of the victims).
It was probably the biggest “What the Heaven” moment in all of Manila: a seemingly brainless bird, its tiny but nonetheless deadly sharp beak aimed at my forehead!!! And what was I to do but make this sort of backward dance move like in The Matrix?! Otherwise, I would probably have found myself in PGH with a stupid bird stuck on my forehead, struggling to wrench itself off my head – or worse, with a tiny bleeding hole on my forehead.
If you’ve seen those Japanese fighter planes make nasty nose dives in those World War II films, then you should somehow be able to visualize the damn bird – only it’s headed up instead of down. Why did such misfortune befall me; why was I cursed to be victim of a failed bird attack?
Theory No. 1: The brain sensed its nest in my head; in other words, I may be bird-brained.
Theory No. 2: The bird was a rogue bird, much like the rogue bludger in HP Chamber of Secrets.
Theory No. 3: There’s a secret mafia of birds, now in the move to gradually eradicate homo sapiens.
Dammit, I couldn’t think properly afterwards. Trust me, you wouldn’t have been able to. The thought of injury by bird... blasted, hell-sent bird!
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