meninlove: “Holy singed shorthairs, Satyricon!! Are you OK?
Will you have to move while clean-up happens?”
Yep, I’m ok, and no vacancy is necessary. Even the kitchen is largely ok now. We had to air out the apartment afterwards (it was smoky and stinky), so while that happened I wound up going out for the night… although it was so late by that point (I think around 1am or so) that by the time I made it into Manhattan (2:30?) I went to the Cock rather than checking out the newly gay Club 57’s Saturday night party.
The benefit is that the Cock is Satyricon-friendly: there’s no pressure to talk or drink because it’s so dark, crowded, and loud nobody can really see you. The tradeoff, though, is that it’s really sleazy, although perhaps Fellini would have been proud.
coolarmydude: “Dude, anytime you mention something about things catching fire and that you call 911, you have to tell us about the firefighters. Otherwise, what's the point of the story”
You know, I didn’t really get to see them. Outside our apartment door, we had been storing our shoes out in the hallway, and one of the firemen told me, “Here’s what’s going to happen. Everything from here” (by our door) “to there” (by the ladder up to the roof) “is going to go in there” (the bathroom right inside the apartment entrance). That quote’s verbatim! So while they were here I was the busy little slave boy moving my roommate’s shoes (I only had a couple pairs). We’re actually supposed to maintain a clear access to the roof, so now my roommate bought a shoe holder so we won’t impede access.
My roommate tells me that one of the firemen was cute, but I missed him while I was moving shoes. So, yes…
Sedative: “You’re both grounded.”
is probably appropriate. Although my roommate’s going to buy a fire extinguisher like Red_Vespa’s suggested.