A note on making food after returning from the bar:

This morning the Minneapolis fire department had one of their tamer calls. Living just across the highway from a fire station and on one of their direct routes I have the pleasure of hearing fire trucks all the time. They go rushing down 3rd Avenue be it middle of the night, early morning or during the day. Around 6:30 this morning they stopped on my street and we were expecting them.

No, the building did not appear to be on fire, but the smell of burnt toast was in the air. Around six or so I woke up to the normal sound of the garbage truck but there was also a beeping in the air. I, as I often do, tried to convince myself that it was coming from the truck, or maybe even the building across the street from me. I got out of bed when I heard voices in the hallway saying things like “It’s this apartment” “It smells like burnt food”. When I poked my head out my door the neighbor from across the hall (who had probably gotten home from work not that long ago) was banging on the door in question to no avail. When the firemen showed up they had similar failure getting the occupant to the door so what ensued was a simple busting down the door with the butt of an axe. I (strangely enough) do not have a peep hole in my door so I being the neighborly person that I am just kept peeking outside every once in a while.

When the door was open they were finally able to rouse the boy and lead him out of his smoke filled studio. I was pretty surprised at how long it took to get him up and out of there. I mean I have been known to sleep through college dorm fire alarms (whose squawking I have not heard matched yet), but I guess the combination of a late night with liquor (and really who knows what else) and some smoke inhalation were enough to keep him passed out for a while.

Once in the hallway the scrawny, nearly naked, boy sat near my cute little bike as the fire fighters asked him questions and gave him oxygen. I learned that he has a fairly common name, is the same age as me was out late the night before (most likely this morning), and kept apologizing and calling himself an asshole.

So the note: Yes – when you come home super inebriated I do think it’s a good thing to get something to eat. I always do. It helps to absorb whatever is left lingering in your stomach and calms it a bit too. However, I don’t think I’ve ever toasted or baked anything upon bar close and that’s probably a good idea. Stick to readily available food or throw something in the microwave. Much safer options… nobody wants to meet their neighbors this way.