Saturday, March 27, 2010
Vanessa works her way through the assortment of kimchee and others.
Emily calls me the other day to see if I wanna come out and eat Korean with our crew of usual suspects. Hmmm, Korean galbi and bulgogi, with bibimbap for good measure? How can I say no?
So out to Shin Chon in Ellicott City I go where we feast on another large meal of meat, meat and more meat, but this time I make the mistake of ordering the seafood bibimbap. Not that the seafood bibimbap is bad, it's not bad, it's very good. The only problem is that I was thinking of the bibimbap with the fried egg on top and the seafood does not have egg. Bummers.
Gerry fights with Isabella before the fire.
As most things go, it's a relatively uneventful evening out with friends. Little Isabella is determined to have me win a trophy on her Mario Cart for Nintendo DS. As I whip the little go kart around the track, I'm reminded of years past whipping my trusty Volkswagen GTI around the streets of Baltimore - before they suspended my license...
Between bouts of Mario Cart and bites of assorted grilled meats, Isabella starts telling me: Fire! and pointing in the general direction of my rice bowl. Fire! she says, and I spot that I've left some soy paste on my pristine white rice.
Fire!, she continues and I'm wondering just what is this little girl talking about.
I figure she's talking about the soy paste rice and taunt her with the bowl, threatening to smush it in her face.
No uncle, there's fire!
It's about that time that I notice a little flickering light under the table next to us where Gerry, Ryan, Marissa and Emily are sitting. That's odd, I think to myself.
I decide to peek under their table to see what the flickering light is all about. Maybe it's just a reflection of one of the light fixtures above there heads - that's when I notice the foot long flame emanating from the gas line fitting and snaking it's way under the granite top table.
It takes me a moment and a second glance to comprehend and process what I'm seeing. At first, I think to myself that perhaps that's normal and that it's some sort of relief valve/fire - like the fires you see burning at the tops of oil refineries in New Jersey.
That can't be right and I glance under our own table to see if we have a similar fire emanating from our gas line. Nothing. That's when I realise that perhaps we could be in trouble. That perhaps in a moment, the pinhole leak in their gas line will rupture and cause a serious fire, burning my friends and bringing the entire house down.
That would be bad.
I mean, the fire is snaking along the underside of the table and between Ryan and Gerry. It's riding alongside their legs but I'm surprised they haven't noticed any extra heat on their legs. Maybe this little fire is normal?
After the fire: Isabella roping Ryan into Mario Cart.
For one brief and fleeting moment, after I've realized that this is a problem, I think to myself that maybe, just maybe, I won't say anything and in some sick, sadistic sort of way, I'll get to watch some sort of horrific pageantry unfold before me. Evil. Pure Evil.
That's when I say to Gerry: Dude, you're shit's on fire.
It takes more than a moment for Gerry and Ryan to comprehend what I'm talking about. So I say it again:
Dude, you're shit's on fire!
In a flash, there's a flurry of activity as Gerry and Ryan scramble away from the flame and the staff rushes over trying to figure out what to do and how to put the fire out. Within moments, the fire is extinguished and their table grill is shut down. Disaster averted, all because of Isabella's call of fire.
With the fire out, Gerry's leg singed and things settling down, it's time to turn back to my soy paste littered rice and our own table's sizzling mound of meat...