the police came

so by Boston standards it was a good party. !!
I did manage to squeeze in a bit more socializing last night (pure comps-escapism). Cris and Marcelo’s new place is sweeeeet and the gathered friends way cool. The neighbors leave something to be desired though, calling in a complaint to the fire marshall on the very modest campfire the guys labored over for an hour (with all the wet wood) to get going.
The officer said something about “a cooking fire” being ok so I asked, “If we roasted marshmallows then it would be ok?” I’m not sure, but I think he thought I was being a smart-aleck, so I hastened to add, “I just want to understand the parameters!”
He was friendly enough then, even apologized for having to bust up this element of the house-warming party. Amherst town has an ordinance against any kind of fires except the cooking kind – which means grill and the whole nine yards of an entire meal. “I’d have to consider marshmallows just an excuse,” he explained. Oh well.
I did have a few great conversations with a couple of really cool folk from the Translation Department, English Department, and Marcelo’s work. Had a bit of trouble with some of the Spanish names pronounced with a mouth full of food (Ramon is not exactly the most difficult, but I couldn’t “hear” it the first two times around!) . . . I hope this wasn’t too much of a precursor to the social embarrassment I’m no doubt going to be feeling soon enough in Turkey and (fingers still crossed!) Iran.

One thought on “the police came”

  1. After I wrote this I wondered if I should have said “Brazilian” instead of “Spanish”? I mean, the language is similar, but not precisely the same, right? And it made me think of my Uncle Sam and his “Brazilian family.”
    If the attributes of his “family” are at all similar to the ones I encountered last night it’s easy to see why he loved them so much. ­čÖé

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