Is it really good luck?

I had just washed my hair, and had spent the time to blow dry it (a rarity for me). I left the house feeling pretty good about myself; high heeled boots, hair swinging in the wind as I walked to the bus stop. I was waiting right on Nickerson, playing on my phone, when I felt something heavy, like a pine cone, hit me on the crown of the head. I looked up to see if a squirrel was pelting me, but I saw nothing but a crow on the power line above, a foot or so to the left of me. I touched my head a couple of times and found nothing there, but I also didn't see any pine cones around me either. When I touched my head a third time, I realized that the impact I'd felt was caused by a huge mound of solid bird poo. That damned crow must've made a half-assed effort to throw me off by scooting over a foot.

I cleaned up as best I could with the canvas tote bag I was bringing my boyfriend, scooping the poo out of my hair. By the time the bus came, I'd been giggling to myself for about 10 minutes and texting people with "a bird just took a dump on my head!" People responded way, way faster to the bird poo text than to a standard "what are you up to?" text. "i hear its good luck!" and "oh no!" and "looks like youll be bringing something extra over to nathans" (my sister).

The texts kept pouring in as I got onto the 17; it was rush hour so I couldn't seclude myself in my own seat. I sat next to a nice-looking middle aged woman. By this time, I was in a state of barely-concealed hysterics. For being so crowded, the bus was near silent, so when I started shaking and crying with the laughter I was trying to hold in, I have to think my seatmate noticed. I laughed all the way down Market Street, up 24th Street, and right into Nathan's apartment. He promptly made me take a shower, and that was that.