It's been 20 hours and 20 minutes since the alarm radio
summoned me. At 3 a.m. I backed onto School Street on my
way to Hyannis. I was very confident as I went east on
Storrow Drive, the route that for many years took me 
day in and day out to the Eye and Ear Infirmary. Now 
I feel relieved and grateful to be able to pass by.
At Leverett Circle, was confronted with a barricade.
The entrance to the expressway was closed. If the detour 
through downtown Boston was marked, the signs were hidden
in darkness. For a few moments I was lost, then I found
myself on Causeway Street where the Board of State Examiners
of Plumbers and Gas Fitters has its offices.  Because there
was no traffic, I found it easy to turn into Staniford Street,
which would take me to Cambridge Street and Charles Circle.
There I waited minutes on end for a green light before 
concluding that the traffic signal must be out of order.
Since no cars or trucks were visible, I ran the red light,
no police sirens, no flashing lights, apparently with impunity.
Down Charles Street, I was on my way to another expressway
entrance, west on Beacon Street, around the Public Garden
on Arlington Street, then left on Stuart Street. Again, the
Turnpike entrance was poorly marked. I could see no sign,
took a chance, and won. Finally, on the expressway, the huge
trucks were after me, almost, - but not quite -, ripping the
sides of my car as they roared past. Soon the traffic became
much lighter, and by the time I turned south on Route 3, I
had the highway to myself. I arrived in Hyannis at 5:00, an
hour early, and waited in the car, listening to a CD, Haendel's
Oratorio L'allegro ed il penseroso, - text by John Milton,
so as not to fall asleep. At quarter of six, I locked the car
and joined a group of workmen milling in front of the fast ferry
ticket office.  Promptly on the hour, the door was unlocked.
I picked up my reservation and sat for twenty-five minutes
in a small, rather shabby waiting room. The ferry was crowded,
but I had a place at the window. The two adjacent seats remained
empty. I fell asleep. When I awoke I gazed out into a gray haze.
I thought it was fog, instead condensation on the window. At the
terminal there were only two taxis both committed to others, but
the driver of the last to leave took pity and said he'd send
someone to fetch me. I didn't have to wait long. It was an
uncommunicative taxi driver who drove me to Madaket, soothing
himself with popular - das hat mit mir nichts zu tun - background
music. The house was intact. The 16 year old 1995 Dodge started
willingly. Once inside, I neatened the tables, swept the floors
and camouflaged the beds, one with an inverted wheelbarrow
seemingly taking its morning rest, the other with assorted tools
laid out as if awaiting use. Mr. Gordon arrived ten minutes early.
Mr.  Ciamartaro, Mr. Ramos, the assistant inspector, and the
deputy building inspector whose name I don't know arrived on
time. They had the demeanor of detectives examining the scene
of a crime, taking notes, numerous photos, and exchanging
comments such as "Look at this." "Look what he did here!"
With Mr. Gordon, they seemed not to speak at all.  Mr. Ciamataro,
apparently somewhat uncomfortable by my presence became assertive,
if not aggressive. He persistently summoned me to answer questions
about the Code. "You told the Court you understood the codes," he
chided me. I'm not particularly good at oral examinations.  I was
tired. I would be overrule, even if I was "right". Mr. Ciarmataro's
purpose was obviously to justify his wholesale condemnation of my
installation. I decided to play dumb. At one juncture I referred
Mr. Ciarmatoro to Mr. Gordon, as the plumber whom I had hired to
do the job. At this juncture, Mr. Ciarmataro didn't want to talk
to the plumber. He wanted to chastise me.  Several times, even
when I might have ventured the "correct" answer, I said simply,
"I don't know."  At the time I was vaguely aware that Mr. Ciarmataro
was authorized to make an examination only of my plumbing but not
of me. I now interpret his aggressive and insulting interrogation
of me as an expression of his prejudiced opinion that someone who
was not a licensed plumber was incapable of a code compliant
plumbing installation. When the inspection was completed, Mr.
Ciamataro instructed Mr. Gordon not to do any work until he
had reported to the Court and the Court had ruled. I infer that
he intends to try to obtain the Court's permission to order the
destruction of the plumbing. When the inspectors were about to leave
I turned to Mr. Ciarmataro and said "I want you to understand that
from my position there are no ill feelings, no anger, and no resentment.
The controversy over the plumbing has been one of the most meaningful
experiences in my life, which I will never forget, and I thank you.
Then the acting building inspector said: "We are doing this to protect
the public health and welfare." To which I replied: "You do not have
a monopoly on protecting the public health and welfare. I have been
doing that in my medical practice for 50 years. No patient of mine
has ever lost an eye as a result of an eye operation that I've done,
and my plumbing has never caused a single case of cholera or typhoid
or any other disease. After the inspectors had left Mr Gordon wanted
to talk about unrelated matters. He showed me an adapter to his
laptop computer with which he could make a satellite internet
connection. I expressed my concern that if he were required to
tear out and replace my plumbing at substantial effort and expense
the same prejudiced, arbitrary and contrived reasoning would be
applied to deny approval of his work. 

After Mr. Gordon had left, I took the car for inspection to
Don Allen Ford on Polpis Road. There was a half hour wait,
but the car passed. I drove back to the house to make an
inventory of items needed to complete the wiring installation,
No 14 UF wire, weatherproof connector boxes, and 3 outside 
lights. The taxi came at 4 p.m. By 4:30, I was in the terminal
waiting room. For the trip back I had a table and 4 chairs
to myself. I played with my new laptop computer. The walk from
the Steamship Authority terminal to the Hyline parking lot
was short and easier than I had expected. The drive home was
uneventful.