Gas Leak

Today, my Possibly Crazy Building Manager (let’s just say that when she became building manager, we changed our locks) banged on my door. I was sure that somebody had been killed, or that my downstairs neighbor had kicked the bucket.

“We have to get out of the building! There is a gas leak!”

I grabbed my computer, camera, and purse. I have been planning such an exit since I first saw the “Tsunami Zone” signs on Pacific Blvd. However, in my mind, I’m stuck in traffic on Washington Blvd. while a ten story tsunami wave chases me.

I went outside to smell the stench of gas, and wondered which house would blow up first, secretly hoping it’s the expensive condos with all the movie stars.

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It turns out the whole coastline reeked of gas. My Crazy Building Manager told me that The Gas Company said it was the smell came from the ocean. The ocean? I’ve lived here for thirteen years and have smelled lots of sewage, dead fish, and sulfur…but this was the gas that comes from my stove.

So far I haven’t been able to find any articles in the news.

Just for today, I don’t trust The Gas Company.