Duck Duck Poop
I'm a fitness instructor and personal trainer. Recently, I was honored with an opportunity to train other trainers at an international convention for my industry. Seven hundred and fifty trainers and instructors from about fifty nations converged in a world-renowned warm-weather resort setting. My presentation was a water aerobics workout for overweight teens, held in an outdoor pool. The public health crisis of overweight kids and teens is big news in general, but particularly among fitness professionals. We need to get kids and teens exercising!
I had a large group of pros signed up to pretend they were teens, hop in the pool, and do the workout -- at 7:45 AM. I had been awake most of the night before, rehearsing the MTV-type teen-friendly choreography, and was plenty nervous. Luckily my jitters didn't incite any jitterbugging to the toilet and engender any poop reports, as I had feared.
7:30 arrived, and I went to the pool to be mic'd up like Madonna and get ready to jump and pump. Just then, I heard a loudspeaker announcement: the pool was temporarily closed for "super-chlorination." What???
The officials told me what happened. Shortly before the announcement, a duck had been swimming in the pool and left duck poop behind. Hence, the "super-chlorination." I thought that was plausible, since the resort's lovely landscaping included picturesque man-made mini-lakes stocked with ducks.
So I wandered over to the scene of the crime -- the pool steps -- only to observe a nine-inch long, one-inch wide brown log submerged and sunning itself. No duck produced this!
Between curses, the unfortunate maintenance worker charged with fishing it out and super-chlorinating the water postulated that a drunken conventioneer must have dropped trou or lifted skirt in the night, held onto the pool railing, set cheeks on steps, performed a straining internal abdominal exercise, and sprinted away for some draining cardio. Sadly, correct.
Soon Mr. Loudspeaker was repeatedly reminding the crowd that the pool was now safe and sanitary. I went on and did well -- but, alas, in front of a significantly smaller contingent than I expected. And the rest of the day's schedule of events was, um, "backed up" by the delay caused by the, um, "duck poop".
That night, I celebrated my success (and the fact that it was all "behind" me) at the bar of a much more upscale hotel. Unbeknownst to me, this prestigious place was home to a uniquely quaint custom. They have live ducks swimming in an elegant fountain in the lobby from ten AM to five PM. Outside those hours, these ducks live in a coop on the hotel roof. At ten and five, an old-fashioned player piano in the lobby begins to play a Duck Walk Fanfare. The ducks are escorted across a red carpet to and from a red-carpeted staircase leading to the fountain by a uniformed attendant.
No duck pooped on the red carpet during the procession, as far as I could tell. But as they were swimming about, I watched the ducks poop elegantly on little platforms installed about the fountain. And I watched the unfortunate maintenance workers charged with removing duck poop from the platforms. One thing's for sure: there's no mistaking human poop for duck poop. Ducky doody is kinda whiteish/clear, and wayyyy smaller, coming from little duck butts. The poop in the pool that morning was foul, but it certainly wasn't fowl.
What are the chances of being disgusted and amused by both duck poop and human poop represented as duck poop on the same day? I guess I'm just a lucky duck PoopReporter!
And so, to forget it all, I ordered a Grey Goose Martini.