Fire and Ice

After yesterday evening’s complete lack of naptime, I was fully prepared to go to bed last night at a more-than-reasonable hour. A man of my word, I fell asleep on the couch slightly before ten, and Katie convinced Sleepy Chris to go to bed shortly thereafter. Even with the 40 second sleepwalk in between, I was guaranteed an astonishing 8.5 hours to have pleasant dreams like “sitting at a computer screen knowing damn well that the infernal paper is over and I can concentrate on more serious things, like www.websudoku.com.”

But such slumber was cut rudely short when just before 2 am, I awoke to find Katie putting on her shoes and winter coat. Now Katie, as she has related to me in the past, has a Sleepy Katie alterego that has caused her in the past to get ready for school at 12:30 am, only to find out her shower is seven hours premature, but I quickly realized this wasn’t one of those times. Why was this revelation so clear?

Oh yeah, the piercing scream of the fire alarm in the hallway.

I did my Sleepy Chris fire prevention check as I struggled to find shoes and a coat for myself. I wasn’t on fire. Katie, too, did not appear to be on fire. The fireplace wasn’t even on fire. Looks like the coast is clear. It’s just a shame that the fire alarm doesn’t understand commands like “there is no fire, you no longer have to kill my ears.”

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

As we headed down four flights of stairs and towards the heated confines of the car, it appeared that the fire alarms of the building had united in protest, causing neighbors to also wearily come down the stairs into the 21 degree cold. I don’t think I had met any of my neighbors before. I should have brought them a housewarming gift or something. Maybe I could get them an ACTUAL FIRE, since our building was clearly lacking in one of those.

20 minutes after the initial shrieking the fire department arrived on the scene. They showed no sense of urgency, most likely because the building wasn’t actually going to be engulfed in flames anytime soon, and the closest smoke in proximity was coming out of the cigarette of the state trooper that lives on the third floor. Since there wasn’t going to be any “putting out of flames,” I secretly prayed for the fire department rookie to do something rash like freak out and drill the smoker in the face with the hose. That would have been worth the icy jaunt to the parking lot.

I think that fire fighters are heroes by nature. Yet upon their arrival, we hardly gave them the welcome they truly deserve for their hard work and courageous responsibilities. I think for such an entrance, the people they are trying to save need to be sincerely frightened. Take Ghostbusters, for example. When Gozer goes “Artest” on the roof of that CP West apartment tower, the sky turns black and portions of the stone building fall 80 stories for no apparent reason. That’s the reason the Big Apple faithful chant “GHOSTBUSTERS! GHOSTBUSTERS!” when Ecto 1 pulls up.

When Engine 429 pulls up, all they got was a “hey, don’t hit my car.”

After 40 minutes of “Fire and Seek,” we were all allowed to return to our apartments with the satisfaction that, yes, there was no fire. However, the fire alarm would persist until shortly after 4 am. Shouldn’t the fire department be able to turn those things off? They’ve got big axes, don’t they? I’m sure they could chop their way through a wall and wires with one good swing. I would have gladly sacrificed my security deposit for that.

(But only if they let me swing the ax.)