Saturday afternoon BMG and I settled into a sidewalk cafe' in what appeared to be a trendy part of Providence, RI. We were being served "High Cheese" (wine, cheese, sausage and pate) at a restaurant that adjoined a gourmet food shop. A high end shoe store and home goods store were across the street. It was the kind of retail district that, if situated in Cambridge, would have been bustling 24/7. In Providence, there was no one to be seen.
"Why is it so dead around here?" I asked curiously.
BMG pointed across the street and drew my attention to the following sign. "That may be why," he said sagely, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Oh. It is dead around here, because everyone around here is dead," was my amused reply. I returned my attention to the cheese plate, which featured a Morbier, a soft cheese marked by a thin vein of ash running through its center. Raising an eyebrow I looked up at BMG. He shrugged, raised his glass of beer in a toast, and we ate.