What's smaller than a rocket but packs the same amount of punch? A mortar bomb? Because I totally snot mortar-bombed the guy at the zoo.

Day Two of the Great Trip Westward started in a glorious manner.

First, I awoke at 6:30 a.m. Cali time which felt like 9:30, so, yeah, that was pretty awesome. Next, Lauren was still asleep so I laced up my kicks and went for a run. (Also, I now apparently say "laced up my kicks" for those taking notes.)  I ran along the freaking San Diego Bay, ya'll.  I ran by palm trees.  The weather was perfect - sunny and low 70's, and there was a slight breeze along the water.  I decided to just run for four songs and turn around because I had no idea where I was going and only had an easy two miles on the schedule.

See the dude fishing on the right?  Doesn't he look super tiny?  WTHeck?

"I was ruh-ning."

It was one of those wonderful runs that feels like you could RUN FOREVER, which honestly only happens once in a blue moon for me, so I took advantage of it while I could.  I ran the whole peninsula we were staying on (a 2.8 mile loop I later learned) and must have passed 30 other runners on the road.  It was awesome.  I felt like I met my people.  After the run I checked out the Hilton's fitness center.  I grunted through an ab workout, did some squats, and then did my arms.  I was worried a little about missing my swim workouts that week (have I mentioned I have a triathlon tomorrow?!) and wanted to do some extra arm strength training to compensate.  I got a little carried away on the triceps, but don't worry, I totally whined like a baby about how sore my arms were for the duration of the trip sucked it up like the hardcore athlete I am.

This is a picture of the same meal I ordered
that I stole off the internets because I am
horrible at remembering to photograph my
food before I inhale it.  It turns out I actually
stole it from a food blog, so if you want more
of a description of my breakfast that includes
phrases like, "balanced flavors", check it out.

We ate brunch in a cute little restaurant called the Hob Nob Hill.  It had paisley booths and chandeliers.  It's like they knew I was coming and decorated the interior to cater to me personally. I ordered a spinach, bacon, cream cheese, and avocado omelette which was just as delicious as it sounds, and I convinced myself it was healthy because I dubbed it Paleo if you ignore some of the key ingredients.  It came with spiced apples and rhubarb coffee cake which I washed all down with Diet Coke.  (Nope.  I didn't even try to make this meal diet friendly. Well, I actually subbed the apples for the hash browns, so yeah, totally low-cal brunch.)


After breakfast we headed to the San Diego Zoo.  Admittedly I'm not much of an animal person.  I don't hate them, I'm just not the friend that really cares too much about your pet critters (but I promise I'm really good at acting attentive in the interest of supportive friendship).  In fact, Sarah's dog is usually greeted, "Wut up, Dawg?" even though her name is Tess (okay, Tess is freaking adorable)(she's a Labradoodle)(with gorgeous eyes) because I'm pretty gangster like that.  The San Diego Zoo is pretty pricey, but it is supposed to be one of the best zoos in the country, so it was worth it to pony up the cost of admission. (10,000 Awesome Points for a zoo pun.)

The San Diego Zoo is fantastic.  The tour guide told us to think of it as shaped like a bowl. The hills were steeeeep.  In fact, in several places there were signs warning that only the really physically fit take certain trails.  These trails were probably my favorite part of the zoo, because there is no way I would have been able to hike them three years ago.

It was at the zoo that I had an epiphany about both Lauren and myself.  This was unexpected because I've known Lauren for years ... and myself even longer. (Insert vocal rim-shot.) Lauren really likes birds.  Lauren also really likes photography.  I never combined those interests in my head before. Thankfully the four aviary's at the zoo had me well convinced Lauren likes to take pictures of birds.

Me surely being hunted in the aviary. I
don't even know what happened with
the lighting in this picture, but it totally
supports my argument that I was in
mortal danger.

Taking our time going through the aviary's normally wouldn't be a problem because I'm a super chill and undemanding friend except when I need iced coffee, but I discovered something about myself during the Lauren/Bird/Camera Epiphany.  Aviary's freak me the heck out. Like, a lot. Waaaay more than leeches.  You know in Jurassic Park, when they are being hunted by the raptors and you just know they are surely going to die in some grotesque way that will also be horribly painful? Being in the aviary's was exactly like that, except I knew poop would also be involved. Because, seriously, I'm like a bird poop magnet*. (*This post is already too long, but I promise I will share my bird poop stories another time.  Now that is the kind of teaser that keeps the crowds a-coming.)

After the first aviary I retreated as quickly as possible to the caged entryways of each aviary to "study the map".  (I'm pretty sure at this point I could get a job as a San Diego Zoo tour guide.)(#moremarketableskillzinmypocket)  I still had to walk through each one because I certainly wasn't going to confess my fears to Lauren because a Navy Seal doesn't ever show fear even when tropical sniper birds hiding in the trees above are aiming for a kill shot of poo.

"I'm coming for you, Kelly."

When I was pretending to appreciate the beauty of the foliage as I speed-walked through aviary #3, I saw two young guys meandering through behind me.  They were in their late teens and I was all, "Dude, that's cool. These guys are just hanging out at the zoo together, checking out birds."  I was preparing to greet them (because I have a big mouth and think the distraction of a good conversation is the best way to deal with stress when you are facing certain death) when, as I held open the chain link fence door for them, a bird totally crapped on the wrist of the kid reaching out to grab the door from me.  I immediately felt horrible, because I knew that poo was meant for me and this kid was just an innocent bystander.

I saw him look at his wrist, say, "ugh," look at me looking at his wrist, saw him get embarrassed and then get pissed because teenage males usually deal well with embarrassment, and I responded the way I do best.

I bit the inside of my mouth and thought, "please don't laugh out loud at this poor dude," and then, "ohmylanta, I'm totally going to laugh," and then, "maybe if I clamp my lips together nothing will happen," and then my body literally betrayed me.

I started to laugh, but since my mouth was out of commission, my giggles bubbled out in halting gasps through my nose.  This, in turn, produced a fine misting spray of snot to projectile from my face to this poor boy's outstretched avian feces spotted wrist.  It was like a snot-rocket that misdetonated.  Instead of producing a neat little ball of nasal mucus that projected forcefully to the ground, my halting reaction of suppressed laughter simply showered down in waves, drizzling over the unfortunate surface below.

I was all, "Sorry," and ran back inside the aviary.  So you know even though I was still giggling I totally felt bad about it.

So, yeah, the zoo was cool.