My apartment building caught fire yesterday! Since nobody died or got injured - except for the cat which suffered some slight smoke inhalation - I can say what I'd really like to say without sounding like an insensitive twat.
And what I'd really like to say is - how cool is that??? Woo hoo!
This is what happened. Unit 105 usually has a guy, his aunt, his dog and his cat living in it. His aunt, at the time of the fire, had been hospitalised due to depression and thus, wasn't home (a very good think, coz the guy later told me that she was quite old and very heavy.)
So, our friend goes to sleep in the living room and next thing he knows, he wakes up to the sound of roaring flames and the sight of thick smoke.
He grabs his dog and his laptop, looks unsuccessfully for his cat (that much vaunted feline independence ain't so hot now, is it??) and runs out, with only his shorts on. No T-shirt, no shoes. Nothing.
While all this drama is happening, I'm at home, in unit 501. (105:501 - what are the chances?) Usually, I'm at work at that hour - about 4:45 p.m. or so. But today, for the first time, I'm actually working the afternoon from home, due to the fact that my just concluded interview was at a nearby library.
I hear the smoke alarms and pop my head out of my unit. All appears normal. I get back in again and decide that it's a false alarm - which has happened before.
Something tells me then just to go out anyway. So, grumbling and cursing I throw on some clothes, grab my wallet and passport and head out. Still thinking that it's not a real fire, I don't bother bringing my laptop, camera and most importantly, my reporter's notebook.
I take the stairs down and that's when I realise that the building really is on fire. Acrid fumes hit me the moment I reach the third floor. For a moment, everything is black and I feels the stirrings of panic in my guts.
Here's where that fireman training I went for back in Malaysia held me in good stead. Squinting and stuffing my face into my shirt (good thing I wasn't loaded with my camera and laptop), I crouch as low as I can and head for the exit as calmly as possible.
I expect to see pandemonium reigning outside. Instead, what I do see is impressive orderliness on the part of the residents and superb efficiency on the part of the firefighters.
The blaze, which thankfully consumed only one unit, was put out in less than 15 minutes. While debating whether or not to call the Post-Dispatch and tell them about the itty-bitty fire, I get a call from Elie (yes, I grabbed my phone too!) telling me she's covering it and asking if I'm taking pics. I had to disappoint her by saying my camera was stuck upstairs (what kind of reporter leaves behind the tools of his trade when a story literally falls into his lap? So embarassing!)
But, I managed to borrow Elie's notepad and pen and jot down some quick interviews with the guy as well as the fire captain. So, my honour has been regained somewhat.
Oh, and the vic was wearing what I thought was one of those fancy jogging GPS/odometer devices on his ankle. Elie later told me that it's a tracking device for prisoners who are under home arrest. So, now we're speculating that the cause of the fire was a meth-lab accident and not a falling shitty lamp as the guy claimed earlier. Hmmm....
And what I'd really like to say is - how cool is that??? Woo hoo!
This is what happened. Unit 105 usually has a guy, his aunt, his dog and his cat living in it. His aunt, at the time of the fire, had been hospitalised due to depression and thus, wasn't home (a very good think, coz the guy later told me that she was quite old and very heavy.)
So, our friend goes to sleep in the living room and next thing he knows, he wakes up to the sound of roaring flames and the sight of thick smoke.
He grabs his dog and his laptop, looks unsuccessfully for his cat (that much vaunted feline independence ain't so hot now, is it??) and runs out, with only his shorts on. No T-shirt, no shoes. Nothing.
While all this drama is happening, I'm at home, in unit 501. (105:501 - what are the chances?) Usually, I'm at work at that hour - about 4:45 p.m. or so. But today, for the first time, I'm actually working the afternoon from home, due to the fact that my just concluded interview was at a nearby library.
I hear the smoke alarms and pop my head out of my unit. All appears normal. I get back in again and decide that it's a false alarm - which has happened before.
Something tells me then just to go out anyway. So, grumbling and cursing I throw on some clothes, grab my wallet and passport and head out. Still thinking that it's not a real fire, I don't bother bringing my laptop, camera and most importantly, my reporter's notebook.
I take the stairs down and that's when I realise that the building really is on fire. Acrid fumes hit me the moment I reach the third floor. For a moment, everything is black and I feels the stirrings of panic in my guts.
Here's where that fireman training I went for back in Malaysia held me in good stead. Squinting and stuffing my face into my shirt (good thing I wasn't loaded with my camera and laptop), I crouch as low as I can and head for the exit as calmly as possible.
I expect to see pandemonium reigning outside. Instead, what I do see is impressive orderliness on the part of the residents and superb efficiency on the part of the firefighters.
The blaze, which thankfully consumed only one unit, was put out in less than 15 minutes. While debating whether or not to call the Post-Dispatch and tell them about the itty-bitty fire, I get a call from Elie (yes, I grabbed my phone too!) telling me she's covering it and asking if I'm taking pics. I had to disappoint her by saying my camera was stuck upstairs (what kind of reporter leaves behind the tools of his trade when a story literally falls into his lap? So embarassing!)
But, I managed to borrow Elie's notepad and pen and jot down some quick interviews with the guy as well as the fire captain. So, my honour has been regained somewhat.
Oh, and the vic was wearing what I thought was one of those fancy jogging GPS/odometer devices on his ankle. Elie later told me that it's a tracking device for prisoners who are under home arrest. So, now we're speculating that the cause of the fire was a meth-lab accident and not a falling shitty lamp as the guy claimed earlier. Hmmm....
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