Yolksters

Before any of us had kids, Canetto and I spent a crazy weekend in Boston visiting our friends, Dave and Marianne.

It was the first time we had seen their (really nice) apartment, and they entertained us by revealing the coolest aspect of the entire place -- a security camera at the building entrance. Everyone in the building could access the video feed from this camera by turning to a certain channel on their television sets, so we spent a lot of time watching people come and go while drinking and catching up. (It really is more fun than it sounds, I swear. Although, it does help to be somewhat of a voyeur. And somewhat of a drinker.)

As the evening went on, we started kidding about what we could put on the front porch that would cause a reaction from the people coming and going from the building. We didn't want it to be gross or scary -- just odd. Finally, we settled on eggs. We figured that if we cooked two perfect sunny-side up eggs and left them plateless on the doorstep, we'd get all kinds of weird reactions from people.

You've never seen more insane preparation for something. Dave meticulously cooked the eggs and then put them on a paper plate. As Marianne and I watched, he and Tim did the stealth mission to deliver the eggs to the doorstep without being detected.

After that, we watched no fewer than 20 people come up to the buidling entrance. Every single person did at least a double-take; a couple of people looked terrified; one mother put her arm out in front of her young child as though to shield him from the danger that was the sunny-side up eggs.

Entertaining as it was, this was only a warm up for a fun night out in Boston, so we did have to leave after a while. We have no idea what became of the eggs, and I still sometimes wonder if any witnesses put much thought into why there were two perfectly cooked eggs on their apartment doorstep.