The dickness of seagulls

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Something like eight years ago, I was showing the sites of San Francisco to some distantly related family from Texas. This is one of the few times I ever set foot at Fisherman’s Wharf and being that as it were, I had to indulge myself in a soft pretzel. It ultimately wasn’t as tasty (although much more salty) than I remembered from childhood, but what soiled the experience even more was a seagull that cross blocked me from the side and swiped the pretzel out of my hands.

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson in regards to the overall dickheadedness of seagulls in stealing my food, but no. For lunch, we had decided to thaw out some botifarra that were from a small butcher up in a village near Girona. We don’t have many of them and use them sparingly given that they’re both cheaper and leagues better than any botifarra you can find in Barcelona.

In wanting to accelerate the thawing process I put the botifarra on a plate on a chair out on the balcony. In checking on them two hours later, they were gone. Well, not completely gone as it became readily apparent that a seagull stole them and then flew across the street to the roof of the old market to eat them. Finding them partially frozen he obviously gave up, but the damage was done and the salute to my having grown up in the interior of California, free of the seagull threat to my lunch now stares me back in the face. I can only hope that when they do thaw out these assholes come back and finish them because this not only ruined my lunch, but also my view.