Today, after I returned home to my humble abode, I opened the front door to get a big whiff of GAS. As in the dangerous kind, not of the ate-too-many-Cheetos (ATMC) variety. I was the only one home and seeing as none of the burners had been left on, I was somewhat alarmed. I immediately called my super, Jose. Oh, Jose. Jose answered his phone. I jotted down a note to myself to call Guinness World Records. Still, I thought I competently explained the problem in Spanish, using such words as "cocina de gas" ; "gasolina" ; "peligroso" ; and the embarrassing "tengo miedo". He assured me he would be there in 'una hora'. I waited five minutes, then remembered Jose was most likely high, and called ConEdison instead.So, after calling ConEdison and them instructing me to kindly leave the building and inform all those around me of the potential gas leak, I found myself on the streets of WaHi . . . with no bra and a low-battery cell phone. I hid out in the back of the grocery store for a little bit . . . until people starting getting suspicious. Luckily, the ConEd dude came within 15 minutes. Alright! He turned out to be a charming gentleman I probably could have taken home to my mother. I asked him if we were going to blow up. He said ConEdison was generally uncomfortable with using the phrase 'blow up'. I asked if there was going to be an explosion in my apartment in the near future. He replied that either way, we were going down in this together. Comforting. Crazy ConEd man with a blowtorch and gloves in my kitchen. He then took the stove apart and said, your pilots are out. After getting over my initial thought that he was making a sexual comment about my nips and lack of bra, I realized he meant the oven pilots. I peered at him blankly. He lit both pilots with a match. He told me that if both pilots are out, often they will emit a large amount of gas. He also told me my super was a jerk, in passing conversation of course. Then we had wild sex and started a real fire in my kitchen. No, actually. He said "I'm going to use your paper towel." I said, "Okay." He told me that the ConEd guy on the phone was reading from a script when he told me to exit the building. I said, "Interesting." Then just as quick as he entered, he left. That's what she said.
Afterthought: a Mississippi area code number called me an hour later. I briefly pondered if Jose the Super was on vacation in the South?
Afterthought 2: Homeless man on street saw me without a bra.
I should probably write more, but I need to skedaddle.
More to come (espesh about how I signed a lease today).
UNT
