This Phone is Out of Order

...one Saturday afternoon I was lounging around my house when the fire alarm sounded on the Plectron (home fire radio).  My mom, who was the fire dispatcher back in those days, began to reveal the location and jest of our next fire adventure.  I soon realized the house that was on fire was just up the road slightly and across the highway from my own house.  In fact it was located between my house and the fire station a couple blocks farther up Caves Hwy.

Back in the day when I was much younger I didn't drive to the fire station when I responded to an alarm.  I ran to the fire station.  I found it was faster then getting in my van and starting it up, stopping at the busy highway and sometimes having to wait for a long line of traffic before I could proceed to the station.  In those days too, we had several volunteer firefighters who lived very close to our station so a sort of parking war would ensue when arriving at the station for a fire alarm.  You did not want to be a casual pedestrian walking near the fire station bay doors when we began to arrive, especially when it was cold and icy out.  Our motto was "every man for himself" when arriving at the station and "every man for each other" after we left together in the engine.

For many years I have been accused of even running to the fire station wearing just my underwear.  Which of coarse would have been ludicrous unless I thought I could have shaved off a few seconds getting to the station quicker.  Actually I had a white pair of running shorts I would wear to bed.  I could see where the unsuspecting motorist driving by seeing this nearly naked guy running up the roadside at all hours of the night and early mornings, to them it probably did look like I was wearing only underwear.  We firefighters had invented an ingenious plan.  We had purchased a garage door opener and installed it on the big bay door in front of our engine.  I would come sprinting up the road on a dead run in my white shorts, mom would look across the highway from her office, located directly across the street from the station, and punch the door opener and I would duck under the door as it was still retracting.  The sooner I got inside the building the safer I would be during "parking time".  This plan worked 99% of the time except for the few times mom got so busy with an incoming call where she would forget to hit the door opener button for us.  I suppose to the passing motorist it again probably did look like a nearly naked guy was jumping up and down in front of the fire station waving his arms frantically in only his underwear, yelling, "Open the Door, OPEN the DOOR", trying to get his moms attention from across the road.

On this particular fire I ran to the station which was sort of weird for me running by the house which was ON FIRE.  Not knowing if I should quickly stop and see what I could do to help or just keep on running and go get the engine.  It's the only fire I did a critique on as I ran by it. No other firefighters were arriving fast enough for me that day so I responded in the engine back down the road to my neighbors burning house by myself.  Pulling in and coming to a lurching stop in the driveway. The dragon was really getting prepared to break out by observing the thickness of the smoke pouring from under the eves.  Streching the limp hose line to the front door.  Running back to the engine to engage the pumper, I nervously looked out the driveway for reinforcements to arrive but there were none to be seen.  I throw the lever on the pump panel and pressurized water quickly brings the dragon killer to life.  I run back to the nozzle laying next to the front door steps, I pull the strap on my helmet tight, with one last glance back over my shoulder towards the road, damn, still nobody, my neighbors stuff is burning I surmise,  so I head inside alone.

I caught the ball of fire just as it was rolling across the ceiling tiles headed towards the living room.  Gathering the flames up in my powerful fog stream I stuff that cranky old dragon back into the kitchen from where he was trying to escape.  On one knee, staying low under the heat, by myself, suddenly to my left side I hear a phone ring.  It was hanging on the wall next to the dining room table. Back then everybody still had landline telephones, cell phones weren't even invented yet, at least not in our neck of the woods.  It starts ringing and ringing and ringing as I scoot over next to it.  I've got most of the fight knocked out of this dragon by now, as I reach to pick the phone receiver up.  I'm going to answer it in some clever voice with something official sounding like,  "this phone number is temporarily out of order, due to the HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!!".  The darn receiver had gotten so hot that it had melted to the phone body itself and I couldn't pull the two parts apart.  About then the phone stopped ringing so I went about finishing off this old beast for good.

After all the excitement had finally died down. I was back at the fire station helping clean our gear up with the rest of the guys whom had finally showed up to help.  I got to thinking, it probably wouldn't have been a very smart idea to answer that hot phone.  Placing the molten receiver against my fleshy ear.  This happened well before when we started wearing the protective fire hoods we use today.  Back then we still used our thin skinned ears you help us judge the heat trapped in a room we had a fire fight going on in. I probably instead would have blurted out saying something to the effect "this phone number, HOLY SHIT, my EAR is on FIRE!!!