One of the Project Managers in my office is leaving us to work with another company. As a farewell gesture, we all went to a German “restaurant” down on Venice boardwalk to have lunch and wish our co-worker all the best. (I put restaurant in quotes because no one really goes down there for the cuisine.)
For those of you who don’t know, Venice Boardwalk is the place to go when you want to see “crazy.” All kinds of people are there, from your beach bums to your zoned-out stoner. Add in a mix of out-of-state tourists, and you’ve got the population that walked back and forth in front of us as we sat in the patio area. It was the perfect setting for an oceanside lunch, even if the marine layer was still hovering over our heads.
Suddenly, the PM sitting to my left grabbed a couple of napkins and started wiping the side of his shirt.
“Did a bird just shit on you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he replied.
He pulled up the napkin for inspection, but the stain didn’t even look like bird poop. If anything, it looked like he may have gotten peed on.
Fast forward about thirty minutes: the food has arrived and we’re all digging in. The PM next to me suddenly blurts out, “I think it was a chicken wing.”
I didn’t know what to say except for, “What was a chicken wing?”
“I think someone threw a chicken wing at me.”
Venice Boardwalk has its eclectic mix of characters, but I didn’t think that any of them would stoop so low as to start throwing food at others.
And then we realized the wing probably came from the table of Eastern European tourists sitting behind us. They’d been drinking pitchers of beer, smoking, and ordering numerous plates of appetizers. Further inspection lead us to discover a couple of stray bones in the potted bushes right at the front of the restaurant.
So the next time you find yourself having a meal down by Venice Beach, heed my warning and beware the flying chicken wing.