Thursday, August 14, 2008
We had just started on the made-to-order guacamole at the Sombrero Restaurant on 48th off 8th when we heard the approaching sirens of a fire truck. Not paying it much attention, I went on dipping my chip until the fire truck turned the corner and inched up to stop in front of the restaurant. Sitting outside, we watched as the firemen jumped out of their vehicle and ran toward us. We looked at each other. Was the restaurant on fire? Do we need to evacuate? We did not see or smell smoke. Some of the firemen dashed into the building, while others milled about in the street looking up at the floors above us. Was the building on fire? Not being able to stand the suspense, I got up to walk across the street to scan the upstairs windows. Sure enough there were wisps of smoke escaping out of a third story window. No one seemed to be overly concerned. The firemen came back out and stood in the street talking with each other; occasionally casting glances in the direction of the window. The smoke stopped. They climbed back in their big red truck and roared away. The gawkers shuffled off and we started on our entrees.
Ah, life in the big city.