Apr. 13th, 2006 07:01 pm

turkey day

heatray5d: (Dino Joy)
I've been perfectly boring lately. I say this a lot I suppose, and it's not really a source of discontent to me. I rather enjoy my life, but it's not something, in general terms, that would be terribly riveting to others. A lot of what I work on is cool, but if I told you about it in any detail, I would be fired; I'm actually under three separate NDA's at work at this time (soon to be four).

I wish I could say this enforced secrecy was because of something exciting, but mostly it's to protect manufacturing practices and the twists and turns of upcoming, utterly predictable movies. I have one or two bits of mighty and sensitive knowledge upon which empires might rest, but those empires would be populated exclusively by lovers of the esoteric minutiae generated by our popular culture's second string fantasy worlds.

I discovered, recently, how to plug my computer into my television, which is fantastic, except that my motivation to illegally download movies has suddenly spiked. I'm sure this summer will see me doing quite a bit of that, as I'll be alone for much of it.

This morning, I saw a turkey, standing in front of Quantum Books in Kendall Square. Really, I heard it before I saw it, and though at first thought it was an odd-sounding custom horn installed in a nearby taxi. It was gobbling loud enough that the ululation echoed off the nearby buildings, and doing that thing with its tail that turkeys do. Even after I realized its presence, it took me a second to identify it as a domestic turkey and not a goose or some other large bird more likely to be seen window-shopping in Kendall Square.

When I approached it, the driver leaned out of the aforementioned taxi to tell me he'd called the police and that they said it was "okay," as if the turkey was an escaped tiger or something. He seemed concerned about the fact that I was approaching the turkey. Indeed, it was a huge bird – easily 15 or 20 pounds; the kind of behemoth your aunt always overcooks to nauseate the extended family.

While I tried to get a good bead on it with my phone's camera, a clearly drunk man (this is just a little past 6 A.M., remember, and Kendall Square is hardly party central) walked right by it, approached me, and asked me where Third Street was. I pointed vaguely towards the distant intersection with my left hand while focusing my will on telepathically convincing the turkey to present its profile to my lens. Instead, it gobbled again, startling the nearby whiskey connoisseur, who immediately questioned me as to its actual turkeyness, and again to verify my assertion that it was, in fact, a turkey. And yes, in Cambridge.

Then the taxi driver came out of his cab and began a sort of slow motion pursuit of the turkey. I'm not sure if he was trying to catch it, corral it, or acting heroically to protect me and the staggering pedestrian from its vicious wattle and wicked ass feathers.

This drama, alas, was forced to unfold to its no doubt riveting conclusion without me, because I had a train to catch. I wish Cambridge was a smaller town so I could be assured of reading about the turkey in next week's paper.

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