"I have a story to tell. It’s not something I am particularly proud of, but the hilarity of the situation should not be kept to those who were there to experience, but rather spread around to help create some holiday cheer. As I pride myself as a reasonably intelligent human, with realistic comprehension of common sense, both of these things eluded me (and my wonderful roommates), one fateful afternoon and the following events unfolded:
Elizabeth and I had a leftover chicken that, in our infinite wisdom and need to use every scrap of food to survive, we decided to boil the leftover bones in water to make our own chicken broth and eventually what would be delicious chicken soup. We started cooking the chicken and all was going well…until…we left the apartment. We left the apartment and proceeded to go to brunch, shop, enjoy December in NY and other great Sunday afternoon events. You can see where this is going as I omit the detail about turning the stove off, because we didn’t. As we are on the train home 5 hours later, I get a voicemail from our wonderful super, our dear friend Dennis, who has left a very stern email about “an emergency situation that needed to attended to as soon as possible.” There was a sinking feeling in my stomach as I put the piece together of what it could possibly be and I high-stepped it home. I was greeted at the door by a locksmith hammering our frame the NYFD has pounded through, our super guarding watching over our stuff, and the aroma of charred chicken and smoke.
As Dennis explains it to us: He received a call of smoke coming from our apartment, left his precious football game to come what was going on, saw SMOKE BILLOWING out from under our door, called 911 not knowing if anyone is inside unconscious, NYFD arrives, Dennis without a key, they busts the door open, shards of wood cover our floor, found the source, and cleared the smoke. The locksmith was able to piece our frame together enough to have it hold for the night although to actually open it takes our complete body weight pulling and pushing it open and closed.
After the (literal and figurative) smoke had cleared we all stood around in complete shock and amazement. Imagine for a moment 3 intelligent, college-graduate, young professionals standing around the kitchen sink with our charred chicken, completely baffled to what we were thinking. It is virtually priceless as I wish you could have been there to witness it. Attached is a photo of what we were staring at. Elizabeth so innocently asks, “Do you think we can save the pot?” I laughed.
In the end we had a smoke filled apartment, one very charred chicken and a destroyed pot. We are fortunate that no one was hurt and nothing was damaged (besides our pot and chicken)."
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