Mofongo with a side of Moonshine explosions

The bus reaches Freedom Parkway earlier than usual. I carelessly get off and realise I had left my bag of books under my seat. The doors close as I turn around and the driver takes off. There’s no point in chasing him. Those book will cost me a fortune... Hopefully they’ll be there tomorrow because the money for them is not something I have. Feeling nonchalant since this day couldn’t get any better, I head down 14th to the Caribbean place because on a day like today, nothing could make me happier. I enter the restaurant and the waiter walks over and immediately begins speaking Spanish. This guy is obviously new here. Ugh, if only there were more Italians around here,they’d know better. With a fake smile I’ve perfected over the years I tell him I’m Italian and I’d like some Mofongo with a side of Platanos Maduros. I see the waiter exit the kitchen with my meal and he notices how attentive I am and smiles. A second later, one of the chef’s runs out of the kitchen and yells something in Spanish and before he could spit it all out, my food was splattered across the floor. The waiter, having been so distracted by the news, barely noticed his hand tilting the tray of food turned to me and said, “I am so sorry. I’ll go get you another.” I could tell that this boy of at most nineteen, looking frazzled from whatever his co worker just announced and from the shock of dropping something he knew he’d get in trouble for and have to clean up, wanted nothing more than to run outside with the rest of the occupants of the restaurant and forget all about me and my Mofongo with a side of Platanos Maduros. Oh well, there’s food at home. “Just tell me what happened,” I say with the most forgiving face I could pull out. “ The carnival is up in flames!” he exclaims as he runs out the door. I picked up my bag and run after the excitement, this is definitely something worth seeing. As I run past by Queen’s, I see the club’s body guard chatting with the local bum, Joe Johnson. They seemed unphased by the chaos compared to the rest of us running up the street. BOOOMMM! An explosion. It was probably all the moonshine those clowns were smuggling around town. I gaze off into the massive amount of curly, white smoke filling the air. A car horn that sounded too near to be safe pulls me back and I quickly try to evade the vehicle’s path. This speeding, black car seems rather suspicious coming out of the smoke of the fire, but with all the commotion, I forget all about it and decide to just head home. I’m starving.