It occurred to me the other day when I bent over in the rose garden, got a thorn fair in the bum and jumped far enough to get a second thorn in the forehead (true story, I had the puncture wounds to prove it) that if there was a camera trained on me throughout my life, I would have scooped the pool on funniest home videos.
My ponderings delved beyond my silly moments to some of the more bizarre and random events in my life. I’m not sure my stories are remarkable at all. Maybe bizarre or embarrassing or just stupid moments happen to everyone as they try to go about their business, but they just move on without another thought. I’m a bit of an over thinker and maybe this, coupled with a dubious view of myself, lends itself to thinking that I attract or cause random stuff to happen. I can laugh about it though, it’s not as though I let it get me down. It’s just that with increasing frequency I seem to be saying to myself, “trust that to happen to me.”
Like the time I was driving through farming land from home to uni as a student nurse when one of those glider things – the ones with the motor that look like a plane – dropped into my line of sight and neatly to the ground, nose first. With heart racing and recent CPR lessons throbbing in my head, I stopped the car, jumped the fence and pelted through the paddock toward the plane with the thought, “no one survives a plane crash, no one survives a plane crash” beating in time with my running feet. Convinced I was about to see a dead body and feeling very ill equipped to do so on this unsuspecting Sunday afternoon, I had tears streaming down my face by the time I reached the ‘crash’ site. Here at ground zero I was braced for horror when the pilot appeared from the ‘wreckage’ (it didn’t appear to bear even a dint), took one look at me and said, “Oh hey, are you ok?” before I even had a chance to put him in the coma position. I think I’ve been craving hero status ever since.
Then there was the time I was walking though suburban Hobart and came across a pigeon sitting in the middle of the road. Just sitting there like it was in its living room with the telly on. I was thinking how funny it looked when a car approached and didn’t slow down. I sort of panicked for the pigeon and jumped out onto the road a bit. I don’t think I was actually in front of the car but I startled the driver enough to have him screech to a halt. Screeech. And then give me an angry WTF glare. In desperate excuse me mode I picked up the dumb pigeon and waved it at the driver, saying with extra mouth movement due to windscreen between us, “Sorry there is a pigeon.” The bloke just drove off in disgust and I was left holding the pigeon and wondering how my day had turned so weird.
And once (because we’re on birds) I was walking through the Hobart Mall when a bird flew into a screen above me and fell at my feet. My first thought was (by this time weary of freaky events), “Oh come on, I’m late as it is” but I had first on scene, injured bird responsibilities and I took it to the information booth. Because information booth people clearly have veterinary skills, especially with all that perspex about. Soon we’ll all have wind turbines on top of our hills hoists and the Government will fund bronze medallions for avian rescue.
And the time my fake pony tail got caught in a tree at a wedding and was left hanging. And when a “friendly, he loves to talk” wildlife park cockatoo shrieked in my face at such close range I almost shat my pants. And when a dog jumped up on his garden wall and barked fair in my ear as I walked past (yep, more shite, different undies). And when a weird man walked up to me at a homewares shop, burped and said, “You’re lovely”. And when another weirdo man walked past me as I carried my baby along a crowded Melbourne street and said, “Give your baby some space”. It stopped me in my tracks (he walked on) and I’ve wondered about it ever since.
Oh and the time a beautician told me as she tinted my eyelashes that she had rape fantasies (thank God I hadn’t booked a Brazilian), and the time I got charged by a wombat and chased by an emu and bitten by a donkey (not all at once). And when I jumped into the creek after a lamb who happily swam to dry land on the other side (I could have sworn sheep don’t swim). And when I heard people screaming for help from the beach only to find – after a sprint to the water’s edge and a panicked search – that the beach was deserted (this has happened twice, same beach; I’m thinking ghosts, my husband’s thinking, ‘drama queen’). And when jogging on another deserted beach I found a bracelet length of tiny shells threaded onto seaweed. I know you think I’m reading into this too much, but I swear they had to be threaded on with human hands. Or a mermaid. Or a pategonian handfish. Anyway, there are more but if I go on you will all Unfollow The Freak.
Am I prone to goofy, bizarre, freaky, slightly creepy incidents or is this just life? Are they even worth writing about? If I were to catalogue them all would they be interesting? Amusing? Dumb? Would there be a pattern? Maybe I’m an amusement piece for the gods. Maybe I’m the contributing weird element.
Maybe I should shut up and go to bed.
But before I do, if anyone else feels like they get more than their fair share of weirdness or has befriended a mermaid or had their sanity sabotaged by a pigeon, please share.