I have lived two years in Paris and not once has a pigeon pooped on me.
The other day one got me good though.
After a long day of waiting tables i was walking home; I tilted my head to the right in order to stretch out the fatigue and FWAP. I immediately knew what it was ” REALLY!?!” I said to myself. That crotte had fallen right where my ear had just been. Unscathed and with just a little merde to wipe off the collar of my jacket I continued on my exhausted way.
Was this the city’s way of baptizing me?