Alarmed and Fabulous

 

After a long struggle to fall asleep last night, I was awakened by the blare of alarm at 12:30am. Landlady Chang and I both grabbed our keys, hats, and jackets and stumbled down the stairs, only to discover that our neighbors were all either cooler than us and had places to be at 12:30 on Sunday morning (in our defense, it was snowing and we both had very full evenings) or they were sure to be burnt to a crisp in event of a real fire, as there were only a few other people in the lobby. It was there that we also discovered that we didn't have to wait in the snow. Apparently, a drunken man (possibly a tenant, though most likely a homeless man) had pulled the alarm on the first floor because he was suffering chest pains. Once we saw that someone was taking care of him, we headed upstairs, I put on my headphones, and we watched for big trucks from our window. The fire department was the first to arrive, followed closely by the first of two ambulance. The five minute ETA was rather impressive. Until you consider how the hospital, police, and fire department are all on the same street, on the same side of the road, and within a quarter of a mile from the building. Did I mention that there was no traffic? Perhaps they had to finish stitching that last row lest they lose count.

The ever responsive po-pos were the last to arrive, showing up just as the ambulances were leaving (the guy was able to walk to the car himself), and after they had apparently been paged not to arrive. Which was too bad since three squad cars showed up. I did mention that they're just down the block, right? Thanks, Boston's greatest. For all their efforts, however, none of our service people could turn off the alarm. Landlady Chang checked when she yelled out the window. A very empathetic paramedic yelled back that he was sorry but they didn't know who was turning off the alarm. And it was only then, when all the flashing lights pulled away in the snow (final tally: 1 ambulatory patient, 1 fire truck, 2 ambulances, 3 police cars, 30 minutes of traffic standstill) that we realized that our fun was just beginning. Apparently, the fire department does not control the fire alarm. Building management does. And unlike our hospital, police, and fire stations, building management is not down the street, but far, far away. Which led to Landlady and I to walk all over the apartment trying to find the "quietest spot" (definitely not the bedrooms)-- and how we ended up huddled in her closet discussing how fortunate it was that we were not deaf (only one of our alarms have a light, and it was not working very well), how we'd break the windows and jump in case we were ever trapped by a fire directly outside our door (throw a chair at the living room window) and what, if anything we'd bring with us when we jumped (a sleeping bag to cushion the fall). Oh, Skidmore Dying Cow days, how I long for the alarms of yore.