“Well, I sure hope that this is not going to be an issue. This condo and two other investment units in the building are owned by my family’s foundation. That gives us about 9% of the condo votes. Our purchase documentation specifically provides that the unrelated party provisions of the Harris County code and the condo documents do not apply to our units—and even if they did, we have a legal opinion that both violate the US Civil Rights Act. Do you really want to take this to the Board? Or litigate it? I presume you remember that my mother is on the Board. How do you think the Latinos who live in this building will feel when they learn that the condo documents were written to prevent them from sleeping under the same roof as Anglos?”
“Oh, I didn’t know any of this. I’m sure you can understand that this is a quiet, conservative building—and there is fear it might become an extension of Rice or the med complex with parties, drugs, and young folks running around at all hours. I’m going to have to check with the Board. In the meantime, we can issue a temporary pass and keycard.”
“You’ve got three working days, Mr. Temple, to clear Chet as a resident, issue permanent keys and ID cards….before I bring the roof of this place down on your head.” I got up and left without another word.
As we were leaving, Chet looked at me. “I guess I don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Ferraris.”
“You bet. And incidentally, speaking of sides, I like to rest on my left side when you do my back side with your famous Savannah slide. I’ll be expecting that later.”
“What ever did I do to deserve such a terrible comedian for a roommate—and lover? You turn every word I use into sexual innuendo. And I can’t believe how you ever have time to learn to be a doc when all you think about is sex.”
“May I remind you that Human Sexuality is a med school course? In fact, most of us look forward to it. I do think that if there were a urological specialty that served only young men and women, it would be the most popular of all.”