Where's PETA When You Need Them?

I love this picture.

Piazza San Marco, or in English, St Mark's Square, Venice, Italy

I love it because I'm in Venice, Italy. I love it because I'm feeding the pigeons. But I really love it because I got away with breaking the law. That's right, I'm a rebel, man. Possibly wanted in Italy for bird feeding against the law. Maybe they'll find out where I live and extradite me back to Italy. I dare them. Please do it Italian Bird Polizia!

I have wanted to feed the pigeons in Venice ever since I saw it in a movie when I was a kid. Then, in 2008, Venice banned pigeon feeding. 

No Food For You, Pigeons

Italians pushed back with a vengeance. My cousin Gwen and I would have been right there with them.

Italian Animal Rights Activists Feed The Pigeons

But, as they say, Italians fought the law but the law won. 

So, ten years later, I make it to Venice. 2018 and the Square is still full of pigeons. They are everywhere. It was really fun to watch. Bob and our friend Lori and I sat in the square at a little outdoor cafe and had our 3 coffees and 3 cookies for $100 Euro. We were in Venice! Budget be damned! There was a live band playing, the sun was shining, people were happy. I couldn't stop myself. 

I walked to the middle of the Square and stood there soaking up the moment. How was I supposed to know I had some cookie crumbs, ok, big crumbs, fine, $15 worth of a crumbled cookie in my hand? Anyway, the pigeons spotted their American pigeon and swarmed me. It was heaven. That's when it happened.

This very little man approached me. Not really a man, per se. More like a boy but older than a boy, but smaller than a man. A man-boy. Yeah, so the man-boy comes running over to me wearing his tiny but "official" orange vest like the ones you can buy on Amazon for $5. He informs me rapid-fire in his man-boy voice that I am not allowed to feed the pigeons. I stand there, hands held out and in my best old lady voice said, "I'm sorry. What?" as the pigeons finished the last $3 worth of cookie in my hands. Man-boy states he could fine me to which I reply with a smile and show of my empty hands. He bounces away grumbling. I bounce away smiling. As my dad the boxer would say, it was a draw.

I know, I'm a terrible American tourist. You should turn me over to the Italians. Please.