All hands man your grit fire stations, set zebra condition through out the ship, all hands man your grit fire stations. Once again being a bicycle messenger has it's perks, like witnessing the most bizarre little events that take place in the thriving metropolis of the jar. Yesterday on the square of this fine city I was grabbing some sun warmth against the BOA Corp Center when I noticed the start of a grit fire under the tree that I had just got done noticing had 5 pieces of non biodegradable trash visible in it's branches. The grit smoke billowed out while grit smokers free of corporate America for the few seconds they had to suck down a few grits did not even seem to notice as they stuffed new grit fuel into the slot. I went in for closer in your face grit fire shots, the smell was really bad, like smoldering plasticine and tobacco twisted in a hot knot that was air born. There was an off duty uniformed CMPD officer close by working for The Bank Of America who seemed almost as interested in the grit fire as I was. He informed me that he had notified management and someone was on the way with a cup of water. Wheww, thank God for that. I never got to see the grit fire get extinguished because I was called by one of my clients needing some ROD assistance.