One thing led to another and we ended up getting around to making dinner kinda late this evening. When I checked the clock it was 11:00 p.m., more or less. We had decided in advance to barbecue hamburgers (free-range Australian beef marinated with Drew's Roasted Garlic and Peppercorn dressing... mmm yummy.) As we live in a five-story apartment building we do our grilling downstairs, usually on the brick planters that flank either side of the main entrance. We've never had a problem with doing that before and, as far as we know, neither have any of the other tenants who have done the same.
We were just getting the grill started and there was good amount of smoke. Out of sheer boredom I was watching the traffic on the hill in front of the building. We can see relatively easily what is down there but it is a little harder for the people driving on the hill to see up where we were. I noted a fire truck passing by. I figured to myself that someone in the condos next door must have died or something like that.
Then, the fire truck came a little ways back down the hill. There were some doors opened on the truck and eventually a fireman climbed out. He shined a flashlight up the hill trying to cast the beam onto us. He must not have been able to see us very well because he changed his position and once more the light danced around us. By this point I was laughing my ass off, all the while trying to push myself neatly out of view. Andrew stood there waving the spatula around calmly as ever.
Then the fireman called up to us, "Hey, are you barbecuing up there?" Andrew walked over to the edge of the hill, where they could see one another better, and replied, "Yes, we are barbecuing." The the fireman hollared back, "I - can't - hear - you!"
Andrew repeated his response and the fireman informed us that, "You need to move your grill at least twenty feet away from the building." Um, ok. Andrew locked the lid on tight, put on the oven mitts, and relocated it to the parking lot, since twenty feet from where we were would have put us mid-way down the hill. (Andrew: Yes, I looked it up. (It's the very last section on the page, titled "8-10.4.5.2. Location requirements.") No, they were wrong. It's 15 feet. Though they did have the best of intentions.)
After we moved the grill the firetruck made its way back down the hill, leaving us to our two-person tailgate party. So, here we are, grilling behind our Dodge Neon by penlight. I couldn't stop laughing at how incredibly funny the whole scenario was. I think the burgers came out just fine. I've yet to eat anything because I just had to write this entry and preserve this story for posterity. (Andrew: I've eaten, and they came out wonderfully.)
-- CrystalShiloh @ 12:18 AM