Brazen pizza thief the fowlest kind of crook

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 29/08/2018 (2958 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

He became the breakout star of 2015, setting social media ablaze thanks to a heart-tugging viral video and an extra-large slice of pizza.

As anyone with a computer or a smartphone already knows, I’m talking about Pizza Rat, who became the symbol of the Ultimate New Yorker after being spotted bravely dragging a huge slice of pizza down the stairs of a subway platform in the Big Apple.

It was September 2015 when a subway rider recorded a video of this determined rat wrangling a pizza slice bigger than itself down the stairs at the First Avenue L train station in Manhattan, then uploaded the video to his Instagram and YouTube accounts.

Within the first 24 hours alone, the video of this plucky pizza-loving rodent had more than two million views and Pizza Rat skyrocketed to fame.

As millions around the world watched the little guy drag his oversized slice to his squalid rat hole, Pizza Rat became the embodiment of the grit and tenacity required to succeed in New York City.

“It can be argued that there are few things more New York than a slice, the subway and a rat,” a CNN news story declared at the time. “Combine the three and it’s magic.”

In a New York minute, the world was inundated with Pizza Rat T-shirts, coffee mugs, Halloween costumes and bizarre online tributes on a plethora of image-sharing sites.

Pizza Rat became the Big Cheese in the waning days of 2015 and, naturally, he got his own Twitter account, where he offered inspiring observations such as: “Wasn’t trying to make a statement, humans. Just trying to get some damn pizza down some subway stairs.”

Or my personal favourite: “I’m saving for a house and can’t afford avocado.”

Comedian Gilbert Gottfried, famed for his loud, grating voice, tweeted: “I’m impatiently sitting by the phone to see if I get hired as the voice of #PizzaRat.”

Anyway, I’m giving you this mini-history lesson because last week, while vacationing in Vancouver with my beloved spouse, She Who Must Not Be Named, I came face-to-beak with a creature who makes New York’s beloved Pizza Rat seem like a rank amateur when it comes to snitching snacks.

No one was quick enough to record the action on cellphone video, otherwise Vancouver’s Slice-Stealing Seagull would be a household name throughout the world as I write these words.

What happened was: my wife and I were on the West Coast to celebrate my beloved great aunt’s 98th birthday, but we had a bit of free time, so we hopped on a water taxi for the ride across False Creek to Granville Island, home to hundreds of artists, craftspeople, boutiques, restaurants, a sprawling public market and an impressive food court.

At this point, I would normally regale you with a few paragraphs about how gorgeous the scenery was. But, tragically, we could barely see our noses in front of our faces because of the blanket of smoke that had settled over the city thanks to the hundreds of wildfires burning in the province.

After consuming a healthy lunch — I had a huge helping of fish and chips, whereas my wife had something containing quinoa — we wandered outside the market into a wharfside area jam-packed with people trying to enjoy snacks while parked at picnic tables or simply standing up trying to spot the mountains through the mist.

Which is when it happened. A stylish 20-something woman was standing next to me, holding up a paper plate on which rested a large slice of pepperoni pizza, when — yes, this was suddenly and without warning — a seagull the size and shape of Hulk Hogan swooped out of the steel-grey sky, emitted the Screech of Doom, then seized the slice of pizza in its beak and flapped away with its greasy prize.

“EEEEEEK!!!” shrieked the girl beside me.

“EEEEEEK!!!” shrieked my wife, who feels about birds the way I feel about bears and lions and other creatures blessed with teeth like steak knives.

“EEEEEEK!!!” I shrieked, because everyone else was doing it and also because I startle extremely easily for someone the size of a major kitchen appliance.

All us bystanders comforted the young woman — “It just came out of the blue,” she squawked — then looked on with fascination as the Slice-Stealing Seagull struggled to make off with his piece of purloined pizza.

Unlike Pizza Rat, who was apparently a lone gunman back in 2015, the Slice-Stealing Seagull was instantly accosted by dozens of other seagulls who were apparently being driven insane by the scent of freshly stolen pizza.

But this daring seabird was not to be denied. After more screeching than you would endure at a heavy metal concert, the airborne bandit was able to flap away, albeit quite slowly, with his cheese-intensive lunch in tow.

It was a deeply moving scene and I’m sure it was symbolic of something about Canada’s West Coast, although at the moment I have no idea what that might be.

But that’s not important. What’s important is that, after watching the seagull and his slice vanish into the smoky distance, my wife laughed and pointed at a large sign erected on the wharf directly in front of us.

Here’s what the sign chirped at the throng of onlookers: “If you want to help the birds, let them find their own food!”

The problem is, that’s exactly what the birds do. Ditto the rats. Not that I personally blame them for stealing delicious pizza. Because if you think about it, they clearly knead the dough.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca