"What the hell is on my hand?!?"

I was taking a Thanksgiving stroll through Chinatown with my papa. We were crossing a street through a crowd of people and suddenly I felt something sticky on the back of my hand. So I look, as one would in such a situation, and across the back of my hand is a white gloop of sticky. My first instinct as to what had landed on my hand was bird poop. Get your mind out the gutter, readers. My second instinct was your first instinct, you dirty birds. I yell out "WHAT THE HELL IS ON MY HAND?!?" and my dad turns around and sees the look of horror, disgust and need for hand sanitizer on my face and quickly notes the lady who just walked by us with a big drippy vanilla ice cream cone. Ever the gentleman, my papa handed me a tissue and pointed to the lady with the ice cream. And then he laughed for while. I'm still not 100% sold on the ice cream theory - but it is far better than than my initial thoughts. Needless to say, I washed my hands with soap, very hot water and vigor as soon as I could.