I walked by the California Culinary Academy on my
way to work this morning and all the prospective chefs were loitering on
the sidewalk in sloppy formation with their clean white shirts and
checked pants, looking like a small french army here to wage war on our
barbaric American palates. And parked in front of the swarming chefs
were two shiny red fire engines with a dozen serious firemen bustling
about and opening doors and slamming doors and rolling out hoses and
rolling up hoses and looking very important. Much more important than
the errant chefs who had lit their cooking school on fire...
I had a hard time walking through that throng of
stony faced chefs without bursting out laughing at the sheer hilarity of
it all. They lit their cooking school on fire! Or perhaps they had just
badly burnt thetoast and set the fire alarms off. That was what I
pictured. All those haughty chefs (and they are haughty there at the
school) standing on the corner looking sheepish as the smell of burnt
toast wafted around them. But no one would catch my eye as I sized them
all up, no one would share a laugh with me at how ridiculous they all
looked. I imagine that this will reflect poorly on their records.
tee hee hee
but I saw no flames, and I smelled no smoke and
soon the firemen were speeding off to the next urgent false alarm and
the humiliated chefs and their burning shame (which hadn't been put out)
were swallowed up by their grand old building once again.
