One more reason to love firemen

Well, SW's email said 6:30 pm. The Green Room. He'd be giving a talk on the philosophy of law and please come and please find attached a copy of said paper. Well, okay.

So (after deciding against the suit and opting instead for my cool jeans, boots, and uber-Argentine pink button down -- you'd have to be here to understand), with paper in hand, I hail a cab. A grouchy thing, who upon dropping me off at the law school says though highly respected, all it really produces is mierda. Well, okay. Thanks. Keep the change.

First impressions: What a mess, but how wonderful. It's an odd place completely reflective of its culture. The sense is of 1950s filing cabinet blues and greys and everything frenetic and busy. With the 30 year mark, lots of tables and posters and radical looking types, but also young lawyers in their suits running around looking as if they actually have something to do.

I'm early, so I take the opportunity to walk around. Office, class, copy room, bookstore, cafeteria, gym, bathroom, coffee machines, and students everywhere, but no Green Room. 6:30 fast approaching and I ask absolutely everyone. I follow all the signs. I ask the doorman, ask the students, ask the office workers, ask a professor, ask a very nice fellow who personally walks me around and around, but nobody knows where to find the Green Room (though I do pass the "aula magna" more times than I can stand). 6:26 and I am not happy. Finally, someone points me in the direction of a room without a sign and without a name that could possibly be the Green Room. Super! I dash. It's locked. I knock. No response.

So now I'm even less happy and very much concerned with being late and rude and walking into a room full of Argentine philosophers, lawyers, and god knows what else. 6:28 and the little pink button down is beginning to look a little haggard and seriously considering leaving the hunt. Suddenly, a beacon from down the hall, with a sign that says Bomberos (Firemen).

Now, in my experience, firemen have always been helpful, competent creatures. They save lives, are generally well organized, courageous, clean, polite, and once fished me and 4 others out of a freezing New Orleans canal when Mary Robinson caught a crab and flipped our four. So I figure if ANYONE knows the lay of the UBA, it has got to be the Firemen. And sure enough, a picture of kindness, efficiency, and chivalry, they radio someone who confirms not only: Yes that's the Green Room, but also that 1) the talk is late, 2) won't begin until 7 pm and 3) no one has arrived. Over and Out. Fa-bu-lous. You guys rock!

End of story: BT has time to find the WC, calm down, walk a bit, arrives perfectly on time, no one in the Green Room any the wiser.

Gotta love the Firemen.

BT