On the Bay
The lovely Maria and I are having breakfast this morning in the Concierge Club of the Grand Hyatt Union Square in San Francisco. I’ve just completed another session of The Odd Couple with Patricia Fripp, and we’re about to leave for the airport.
I’ve had breakfast here each morning, but this is the first time for my wife. She remarks that there is an old fashioned, conveyer belt toaster, which does a great job toasting but is very slow. There is a sign, “Do not place pastry or large items on the belt, only bagels and bread.”
I said, “I’ll be right back,” and went around the counter to get coffee. As I stirred it, there was a distinct burning smell, and I wondered what was wrong with the Starbucks. As I walked back, the concierge nearly knocked me down, heading for the breakfast counter with towels and implements draped over his arms.
Maria had set the toaster on fire.
I knew this, because she was looking out the window at the spectacular view of the bay, as if chaos had NOT broken out around her. I sat down as the concierge, armed with long tongs, extracted a burning, black hulk which appeared to have begun life as a bagel, out of the innards of the smoldering machine. He was constantly trying to keep his cuffs out of the flames.
“So, what did you do?” I asked.
“I simply put a bagel in, and the stupid toaster caught fire.”
“There was a sign,” I pointed out, but the sign was now incinerated.
“Yes, but bagels were allowed,” she said.
“Apparently not bagels that weighed about three pounds,” I suggested.
“No harm done,” she said, as the concierge, exhausted, finally doused the embers. Both of us watched the smoke drift across the ceiling toward the smoke detectors.
“Uh, oh,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
I pointed straight up. We were sitting under a sprinkler.
© Alan Weiss 2008. All rights reserved.
