Manneken Pis

I could not pass through Brussels without linen for my grandmother at Le Grand Place but more importantly to pay my respect to Manneken Pis. Brother Gary and I could outshoot this guy in our youth, particularly after a couple glasses of Kool-Aide. Understand, we were only four and five years old but whizzing was a lesson in Physics – wind direction, projectile, and all that stuff. Locating his fountain was difficult in the narrow streets but there he was --- or was he? No way! This guy was dressed in fancy clothes and a funny hat. Had the Puritans taken over Belgium? A crowd surrounded the fountain so it had to be him. I stood back and wondered what was going on. About that time a uniformed fellow with a briefcase leaned over in front of me and opened a steel hatch in the sidewalk. He turned off a valve to stop the Dandy’s stream, pulled a ladder from the hole, excused himself to the people near the fountain, and extended the ladder to the Manneken. He proceeded to remove the fancy garments and place them in his briefcase. He returned the ladder to the cavern in front of me. Then he uttered something in French at the crowd but no one listened. He shrugged, looked at me with a grin, bent over and turned the valve. The stream shot out into the crowd who scattered and a few screamed, much to the delight of the city servant. He chuckled as he replaced the cover and walked away with the suitcase.