PUT THE FLAME TO THE HEAT

Grizzbabe http://grizzbabesden.blogspot.com/ has insinuated that I have teased you badly concerning an incident where I almost ended up unemployed. She is right, it should follow the story about Chef Felenczak, as he certainly was one of the players.

I had been at the FW Hyatt for about 30 days when I got my first promotion. I was to be the Lead cook for the Gourmet restaurant for the evening shift. The Restaurant was named ‘The Crystal Cactus” but I affectionately called it “The Crystal Crotchless” and every waiter in the place was Gay. Now back then, in my world at least, gays were a bit of an exception. I had worked in restaurants where there were no Gays, but here at the Hotel, the Crystal Cactus and Room Service were filled with Gays. To me there was something a little unreal about them as though they might be Gays by Default...(to be continued)
After work, walking to my car in downtown Fort Worth, many was the night that several carloads of these gays would beckon to me to come and join them. The smell of Marijuana wafting from their car windows, my usual response was to moon them. Man, did that ever fire them up as I pulled my pants down and flashed my milky white ass cheeks- they would hoot-n-holler and get out of their car and I would hitch up my pants and run for my life.
I called them the “Boys”.
I let it be known as often as I could that I had no respect for them whatsoever.
AIDS was still relatively unknown.

So on New Years Eve 25 years ago as the night wound down, the “Boys” started to bring me Kamikazes... I don’t know exactly what that is but its either Vodka or Gin and after about the 3rd or 4th I began to feel the effects.
It was about this time that one of the boys, his name was Frank and he looked just like Peter Lorre, only weirder, approached me and asked me a question;
“Steve, why don’t you like us Boys”
As I searched my alcohol racked brain for a proper answer, I spied a Fire extinguisher hanging on the wall.
I had my answer.
I reached over, grabbed the extinguisher. I hung the handle from my apron, holding the 2 foot long nozzle in my right hand. The big red tank hung swinging from my apron, between my legs.
I started to laugh, but it wasn’t funny yet.
I pulled the pin.
I looked Frank dead in the eye and said;
“Why, Frank, I like you boys just fine” and let him have it. A thick stream of white reatardant came very forcefully from the nozzle, leaving Frank looking like something out of a 3 Stooges bit.
"In fact, I like you Boys a lot".
Then I began careening through the Waiters station, that big tank swingin down between my knees and long thick nozzle (in both hands now) hosing down every waiter I came across. Laughing all the way. My best friend and assistant Chef, Jeff, looked on in horror.
It was about the time that I ran out of foam that Security had me and escorted me to the nearest exit.

I don’t remember filling out an incident report. I don’t think they needed my contribution.
I was off for the next three days and worried that I would lose my job.
When i came back, they did not stop me at security. A good sign.
When I got to the main kitchen there was not a representative there from Personnel to escort me away. Another good sign.
But neither was Chef Felenczak there to inflict whatever discipline on me that I most certainly had coming. It would be two long hours before he got to the Kitchen. That's how long it took him to save my ass.
I was slicing meats when he appeared at the door of the Chefs office. He looked across the Kitchen and our eyes locked. He pointed at the floor next to him with his finger. I went.
I don’t know how badly he put himself in hock for me, but I came away with a 3 Day suspension when by all rights I should have been fired.
After that, Chef always called me his "little Troublemaker".

Thanks Chef.