BBQ

Today, I was in Bronx River Park, monitoring a recently completed restoration project where much native wetland vegetation had been planted in place of Japanese knotweed. We were taking a lunch break, & relunctantly decided that we also needed to use the restrooms (which are horrifying on so many levels). As we approached the building, I smelled smoke. The source of the billowing gray plumes? A clean cut sixteen year old kid. He had an interesting little set up, as you can see from the photo.

"Put it out!" I yelled. He responded as if underwater, all movement slow & deliberate. He did make some attempts to squelch the raging fire, none of them very impressive. Meanwhile I was fuming. It hasn't rained in weeks! What if this had gotten out of control? Fortunately it was rather far from the forest. Unfortunately it was right next to the playground & adjacent to the Metro-North train line. Obviously, I was not dealing with the sharpest knife in the drawer.

He finally climbed up, out of the pit, to speak to me. He had an innocent face & indescipherable language skills.

"Da ya wa sa ra?"
"What?!?"
"Da ya wa sa ra?"
"Again, what?"
"Da ya wa sa ra?"
"I have no idea what you are trying to say."
"Ra! Ra! Ra!"
At which point, he holds out his hands to offer me - not "ra", but "ribs".

"They're good. I make good bar-be-cue"
"Well, there are facilities in other parts of the park where you can cook out to your heart's content. But you cannot do it here. We don't allow make-shift grilling."
"Oh. But they're gooooooood."
"No doubt, but you'll have to find yourself another place to hone your culinary skills."

During the course of our little tete-a-tete, he began to walk closer & closer to me. Finally, I told him he was welcome to stay & wait with me for the police to arrive.

After an "oh, man!", he hoped on his bike, pre-packed with his cooking gear & rode away. It was then I noticed the goulish Halloween mask attached to his milkcrate full of tools.