This is the chicken that saved my Saturday afternoon. We had left Hayes Valley and were on way over to Fillmore Street. Beatriz had tuckered herself out at the park and was high from eating a chocolate cookie (a sugar sandwich essentially) from Miette. Tired kid on a sugar rush is like those zombies in Robert Rodriguez’s Planet Terror—unfit for human consumption.
She was screaming and kicking as I carried her up the street when a nice woman, most likely a grandmother, approached us and told us there was the most amazing chicken in the Marc Jacobs store. I was too tired to look at her cross-eyed, and Bea immediately calmed down when she heard “chicken.” (Our neighbors Matthew and Arley have three chickens and Bea loves to watch them). Thanks to Marc Jacobs’s monthly gimmicks and the kind soul in a chicken suit, Bea went from cranky to angel in less than 60 seconds. Transformational.
And the photo is damn good for one take. :-)