We were just evacuated from the building by the fire alarm. The restaurant downstairs has taken up smoking…. meats. They started a few weeks ago with a little mini smoker in the open parking area behind the building, which smelled delicious, and then it seemed they stopped.
No.
They apparently ‘upgraded’ to a yankee fridge smoker and threw it back in the dumpster enclosure, 4′ away from the building’s propane tanks to fully leverage the mighty power of trash and propane as fuel for the inevitable fire. You can see the tanks in the first shot in the lower right.
I’m not sure what tripped the alarm given the outside nature of the event – maybe it was the flames liking at that dude’s window – but the fire mens came quickly and saved us all from the big asplosion that was sure to ensue. Thanks!
Ding! Meat’s done! Now, I’m not a lawyer but I’m fairly sure the restaurant downstairs owes us some smoked meat. Or drinks. Maybe… maybe just drinks.
When the alarm sounded, I did what any sensible person would do and grabbed my personal laptop and made a run for it. It’s been downloading season 6 of Lost for the last day or so and continued to work diligently out on the street via wireless. Don’t want to loose that shit, son!
One response to “fiyah!”
They brought up some tasty artichoke pizza and drinks. All is supposed to be forgiven I guess. Note to self – I can smooth over nearly leveling a building with 2 square inches of pizza per person and soda. The jerry rigged nature of that fridge-turned-smoker makes me question anything I put in my mouth from that place. Maybe the toxic melty insulation is part of the secret recipe?
I’ll make a deal with them; I’ll continue to exploit their phat wireless for my TV downloads and they can continue to…. do whatever they do. Deal!