Pigs in North Africa

I’m not particularly proud of what I’m about to tell you.

This evening was a farewell gathering for friends who are leaving for the summer or for a longer period of time. We had a bonfire and roasted hot dogs – pork hot dogs – in a country where consuming pork is typically verboten.

But that alone wouldn’t be worth mentioning.

The hot dog buns we used are not what most Americans have in mind. The bread was more along the lines of panini bread, providing more space for meat and toppings than would tend to be found in American hot dog buns. The hot dogs themselves were smaller than average American hot dogs. Perhaps you can see where this is going: I decided to eat two hot dogs in one bun.

But that alone wouldn’t be worth mentioning.

I was hungrier than that. I planned to eat another hot dog, but then I discovered that the remaining buns were few in number. My best bread option was an even larger piece of bread than the first I had eaten. One hot dog alone would have gotten lost in there. Two or three didn’t seem quite right either. Shamefully, I went for the quadruple hot dog. And yes, I consumed it in its entirety.

Evening hot dog count: Six. I know you’re as disgusted as I am.

Then we started throwing the pigskin around. (That’s an American football.) This lasted for maybe an hour or so. When the sun had gone to sleep for the evening, we noticed a bird perched upon a third-story ledge, near a chimney. I was pretty sure I could throw the football to hit it from where I was standing, although in hindsight, I suspect it was the hot dogs talking. What delayed me from taking action was the ethical dilemma of getting caught for chucking a football toward a residential building. Also, it would be difficult to explain to my roommate that I had scuffed up his football while throwing at a bird.

My friend thought the bird was a parrot and, in truth, didn’t want me to hit the bird. She just wanted to see it fly, in an attempt to ascertain its species. After five minutes of inwardly and outwardly debating whether or not to throw the football toward the perched bird, I finally decided to let it fly. The result was that I came within thirty meters (approximately ninety feet) of pegging the bird: The bird never flinched, and the football sailed onto the roof of the residential building.

The rest of the story is boring and probably isn’t worth mentioning. My friend went to the roof and retrieved the football. The bird flew away when my friend hollered at me from the roof.