No, no, no; it's not THAT kind of gassy. Somewhere in the area of the pizza place down the street there is a wafting smell of natural gas. No one seems particularly interested in it, so we just go about our business.
Today I am at a Choral Arts event in Brookline. The church is fascinating in architecture and stained glass windows, so I head outside before it starts to take some pictures. Much like my neighborhood, there seems to be a faint aroma of gas.Suddenly, two fire engines pull up, and several firefighters come flying out. A squat man toddles out of the church and flags down the firefighters, saying, "I'm the one who called! I'M THE ONE WHO CAAAAAAAALLLLLLLED."
Much like the sidewalks near my house, this neighborhood so far away also has the phantom gas pains with no other symptoms. After pacifying the little man, the fire engines pack up their firefighters and head on down the road.
When it's time to leave, I cannot smell the scent anymore. Apparently, Brookline is a little classier than my neighborhood; Brookline only gases a little bit.
