Bird is the Word

Maybe I should move my desk into a tree.

After all, the air is probably a little fresher up there, I can enjoy the cool breeze in my hair, and get a little exercise by merely climbing up to the branch from which I could conduct business. On the other hand, my co-workers would be replace by unhelpful squirrels, there’s a chance that if I drop a folder it could sail down onto Leesburg Pike, and my phone cord probably won’t reach from the building. Why would I suggest such a ludicrous thing? Well, someone has to restore the balance, right?

During the work week, a line in the sand is drawn. Human beings are the only creatures that belong in office buildings. All the rest of God’s creation must dwell beyond the walls of commerce and industry and wait to play with/torment/get hit by the cars of humans on the weekends. Look, that’s just the way of the world, you stupid bird. Why can’t you understand that?

Our cafeteria downstairs provides a two-storied collection of tables and chairs for lunchgoers that actually leave their desks to take their mid-day meal. It also provides napkins for those who forgot to pack some in their lunch. And now, inexplicably, it provides a safe haven from the cold for a stupid bird.

Yes, just about the moment when I was to turn the corner and turn my back on this crime-on-humanity, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Up on the second level of the café, a small black bird was flew from end-to-end and perched itself on the window that if sullied, probably would never be washed.

And the people continued their business as if nothing happened.

Look, I’ve never quite understood the purpose of indoor birds. I think most frequently this phenomenon occurs in shopping malls. Just like strangely-placed trees, birds tend to inhabit the upper echelons of the mall’s rafters, and no one seems to care. They’re just another part of the shopping atmosphere, like the smell of Cinnabon or John Mayer music on the sound system. People, this is not where birds belong! You’re doing me a disservice by allowing these skyrats to air-raid my merchandise, and you’re doing them a disservice by denying them the blue sky of freedom.

But back to our Café du Bird.

I wish I could tell you that some exotic, cool avian friend had broken into the building (I didn’t see him wearing a security badge), but alas, this was your run-of-the-mill black bird. It wasn’t a raven, which would have made those who frequented the cafeteria ponder their descent into madness. It wasn’t an eagle that could have instilled some patriotic fervor into their lunch conversation. It wasn’t a toucan that could insist to them they follow their nose for cereal goodness. And it wasn’t a penguin – they all live in the mailroom.

And how exactly does a bird actually make it undetected to the cafeteria? There’s really only a few entrances into our building, and most of them require you to take an elevator up a few floors to get to the lobby. What would you do if you opened the elevator and saw a menacing bird of prey standing patiently in the middle of the elevator floor? Would you go in, guaranteeing a claustrophobic showdown harkening back to the days of Jurassic Park? Would you offer the bird your newspaper, knowing that he’ll probably use it as a toilet rather than check how he did in the stock market yesterday?

And yet, everyone remains calm.

Hitchcock, you warned me of days like these.