(no subject)
I have had an epically bad day. On the scale of bad days, this one has blown my mind.
As I fell asleep last night, my smoke alarm made a feeble chirp, alerting me that it was dying, as it has been doing for some time. Rather than alarm me, this reassured me that at least it wasn't likely to go off while I was cooking.
But as I drifted off to sleep, I thought hazily, "I wonder if I'd wake up if there was a fire or if I'd just die."
It was one in the morning, and I was finally asleep.
At 2 in the morning, my eyes popped open and I was suddenly 100% awake and high on adrenaline and for a second, I couldn't remember why. And then my dream burst back into memory, as well as the loud, panicked voice that shouted "FIRE". I sat up and glanced around. My window was open and there was firelight reflecting through the blinds. I went to the window and heard a female voice say "Oh god did you call 911" and I swear I could hear them both breathing and running. Something fell over. That was the table on their balcony that they'd knocked over when it had burst into flame.
The fire engulfed the balcony in seconds. It was silent, except for breathing and flames. There were no smoke alarms or anything. Smoke was coming in threw my window, and the fire was about ten feet away, I could feel it. Flames shot up the side of the building-- it wasn't MY building, it was the identical one to mine, and the apartment just across from me, separated by a little walkway.
I grabbed my phone and called 911. The people who caused the fire were running away-- I think they were trying to drive away, so their car, which was too close, didn't blow up. The operator answered and I was shaking so badly that I couldn't talk. And I couldn't remember my address. And I was trying to get changed because hell no I was not evacuating in penguin fleece pyjamas.
Finally, the woman gave up on me. Finally, the fire alarm went off in the other building.
I grabbed my camera, because I'm a reporter, and I was so panicked that all I could think to save was my camera and my car keys.
I went outside. I closed my window first, to keep out the smoke. I stood there as the flames engulfed another balcony. My building was silent, no one seemed to KNOW, but there were people huddled from the one on fire. I took some pictures and kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm from the newspaper, I'm sorry," because I didn't want to be the fucker who took pictures while people's houses burned.
I called my mom as I took pictures. At least thirty times. She didn't answer. She finally did, half asleep, and I sobbed "The building's burning down, what do I do" and it took her a few minutes to figure out it wasn't mine.
She talked me into going back inside. The fire trucks had FINALLY arrived and they hadn't evacuated my building, so I went inside, and she went back to bed. I was at my window, watching. As the fire trucks pulled up, someone finally showed up with a fire extinguisher, but it was too late.
It didn't take long for the firemen to get the fire under control. I couldn't sleep because of the lights they'd set up, because it was bright and loud and I was shaking.
I got my camera and went back out. I went up to the fire chief and said, "I'm from the newspaper, can I take some pictures, I'm sorry" and he was irritated but you can't tell the press to fuck off, so he snapped, "Don't get in the way" and I said "Oh god, I wouldn't."
Every time my flash went off, the firemen turned to stare. I was that awful person who stopped to stare at an accident.
I took pictures and then went inside. As I went, someone from my building was by the door, and he said, "Was anybody hurt? Did they get out okay?" and I felt sick because I forgot to ask.
I hadn't heard any screaming.
I went back to my apartment and stared out the window. Eventually, I sat on my bed and stared at the wall until the lights were gone and the firemen were done gutting burned insulation from the apartments. It smelled like charcoal.
The firemen left at 5 and I fell asleep at 6. I got up at 7 for work because it's production day, which means stuck in the office all day. The servers were down and nothing was working and there were mistakes in my story that I couldn't fix. I called every contact on the list of 12 people I was supposed to talk to today and none of them answered. I left messages for all of them and none of them called back. I had to stay two hours later than I was meant to.
I was supposed to drive back to my parents' place two hours away. On only a hour's sleep, I was worried, so I drank caffiene and drove. As I did, I sang loudly along with my iPod and was having an awesome time. I was thinking about how free I was, how amazing it was that I could just DRIVE, how proud I was that I'd learned how. I was thinking about how I worry too much when I drive, that my tires will fall off or I'll lose control or my steering will go.
I was singing along to Fearless by Taylor Swift when something snapped and started firing like crazy. I thought it was a rock in my tire and I pulled into a random farm's drive way on the left side because it would only take a second. Then I realized there was smoke.
I got out and checked the tire and as I did, something black and steaming poured out into the gravel into a puddle.
I popped the hood like I knew what I was doing. I was in the middle of the prairie and the sun was setting and there was no one around for miles.
Something had blown up, something black and liquid and oily but it wasn't oil. It had blown up with so much force that the inside of the hood had a giant splatter pattern on it, dripping down. The liquid smoked and hissed where it touched hot engine, and it was coming from the cap that said 'power steering'.
I called my mother and had a minor breakdown, and she panicked and promised send my dad to help me.
I turned my car on and limped across the highway so I wasn't facing the wrong way, blocking a driveway. My car sounded like a dying rhinoceros.
I sat there, hazard lights on, watching the sun set and shivering as it got colder. Cars sped passed and I worried one would hit me. Two hours passed. After the first hour, I heard a pack of coyotes nearby, howling and hunting.
I giggled hysterically because how was this my life. Really.
A creepy man pulled up and said "Are you okay, sweetheart?" His truck said "Alberta Emergency" with a strange logo I didn't recognize, and he had serial killer written all over his face and his thick glasses.
I grinned and said, "Oh yes, my dad'll be here in a second to help me," and just then, a truck crested a hill. It was my dad, and the guy drove off. He probably just wanted to help me.
My dad found a crack in the hose leading to the power steering fluid. All the fluid had drained and the pump probably burst.
I'm stuck two hours from work and home, without a car, and my dad says "It'll only take a few hundred to fix it." I haven't got grocery money, where am I supposed to get that? He says it'll take a few days to fix. I NEED to be home by midday, Wednesday. We abandoned my car on the side of the road and someone is coming to tow it.
But on the other hand: It wasn't MY apartment, my editor was thrilled I got pictures, I blew up the power steering, not the gas line, I broke down half an hour from my parents', I didn't get killed, and coyotes wouldn't have eaten me anyway.
So it was either the worst day, or one of the luckiest. I can't really tell.
As I fell asleep last night, my smoke alarm made a feeble chirp, alerting me that it was dying, as it has been doing for some time. Rather than alarm me, this reassured me that at least it wasn't likely to go off while I was cooking.
But as I drifted off to sleep, I thought hazily, "I wonder if I'd wake up if there was a fire or if I'd just die."
It was one in the morning, and I was finally asleep.
At 2 in the morning, my eyes popped open and I was suddenly 100% awake and high on adrenaline and for a second, I couldn't remember why. And then my dream burst back into memory, as well as the loud, panicked voice that shouted "FIRE". I sat up and glanced around. My window was open and there was firelight reflecting through the blinds. I went to the window and heard a female voice say "Oh god did you call 911" and I swear I could hear them both breathing and running. Something fell over. That was the table on their balcony that they'd knocked over when it had burst into flame.
The fire engulfed the balcony in seconds. It was silent, except for breathing and flames. There were no smoke alarms or anything. Smoke was coming in threw my window, and the fire was about ten feet away, I could feel it. Flames shot up the side of the building-- it wasn't MY building, it was the identical one to mine, and the apartment just across from me, separated by a little walkway.
I grabbed my phone and called 911. The people who caused the fire were running away-- I think they were trying to drive away, so their car, which was too close, didn't blow up. The operator answered and I was shaking so badly that I couldn't talk. And I couldn't remember my address. And I was trying to get changed because hell no I was not evacuating in penguin fleece pyjamas.
Finally, the woman gave up on me. Finally, the fire alarm went off in the other building.
I grabbed my camera, because I'm a reporter, and I was so panicked that all I could think to save was my camera and my car keys.
I went outside. I closed my window first, to keep out the smoke. I stood there as the flames engulfed another balcony. My building was silent, no one seemed to KNOW, but there were people huddled from the one on fire. I took some pictures and kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm from the newspaper, I'm sorry," because I didn't want to be the fucker who took pictures while people's houses burned.
I called my mom as I took pictures. At least thirty times. She didn't answer. She finally did, half asleep, and I sobbed "The building's burning down, what do I do" and it took her a few minutes to figure out it wasn't mine.
She talked me into going back inside. The fire trucks had FINALLY arrived and they hadn't evacuated my building, so I went inside, and she went back to bed. I was at my window, watching. As the fire trucks pulled up, someone finally showed up with a fire extinguisher, but it was too late.
It didn't take long for the firemen to get the fire under control. I couldn't sleep because of the lights they'd set up, because it was bright and loud and I was shaking.
I got my camera and went back out. I went up to the fire chief and said, "I'm from the newspaper, can I take some pictures, I'm sorry" and he was irritated but you can't tell the press to fuck off, so he snapped, "Don't get in the way" and I said "Oh god, I wouldn't."
Every time my flash went off, the firemen turned to stare. I was that awful person who stopped to stare at an accident.
I took pictures and then went inside. As I went, someone from my building was by the door, and he said, "Was anybody hurt? Did they get out okay?" and I felt sick because I forgot to ask.
I hadn't heard any screaming.
I went back to my apartment and stared out the window. Eventually, I sat on my bed and stared at the wall until the lights were gone and the firemen were done gutting burned insulation from the apartments. It smelled like charcoal.
The firemen left at 5 and I fell asleep at 6. I got up at 7 for work because it's production day, which means stuck in the office all day. The servers were down and nothing was working and there were mistakes in my story that I couldn't fix. I called every contact on the list of 12 people I was supposed to talk to today and none of them answered. I left messages for all of them and none of them called back. I had to stay two hours later than I was meant to.
I was supposed to drive back to my parents' place two hours away. On only a hour's sleep, I was worried, so I drank caffiene and drove. As I did, I sang loudly along with my iPod and was having an awesome time. I was thinking about how free I was, how amazing it was that I could just DRIVE, how proud I was that I'd learned how. I was thinking about how I worry too much when I drive, that my tires will fall off or I'll lose control or my steering will go.
I was singing along to Fearless by Taylor Swift when something snapped and started firing like crazy. I thought it was a rock in my tire and I pulled into a random farm's drive way on the left side because it would only take a second. Then I realized there was smoke.
I got out and checked the tire and as I did, something black and steaming poured out into the gravel into a puddle.
I popped the hood like I knew what I was doing. I was in the middle of the prairie and the sun was setting and there was no one around for miles.
Something had blown up, something black and liquid and oily but it wasn't oil. It had blown up with so much force that the inside of the hood had a giant splatter pattern on it, dripping down. The liquid smoked and hissed where it touched hot engine, and it was coming from the cap that said 'power steering'.
I called my mother and had a minor breakdown, and she panicked and promised send my dad to help me.
I turned my car on and limped across the highway so I wasn't facing the wrong way, blocking a driveway. My car sounded like a dying rhinoceros.
I sat there, hazard lights on, watching the sun set and shivering as it got colder. Cars sped passed and I worried one would hit me. Two hours passed. After the first hour, I heard a pack of coyotes nearby, howling and hunting.
I giggled hysterically because how was this my life. Really.
A creepy man pulled up and said "Are you okay, sweetheart?" His truck said "Alberta Emergency" with a strange logo I didn't recognize, and he had serial killer written all over his face and his thick glasses.
I grinned and said, "Oh yes, my dad'll be here in a second to help me," and just then, a truck crested a hill. It was my dad, and the guy drove off. He probably just wanted to help me.
My dad found a crack in the hose leading to the power steering fluid. All the fluid had drained and the pump probably burst.
I'm stuck two hours from work and home, without a car, and my dad says "It'll only take a few hundred to fix it." I haven't got grocery money, where am I supposed to get that? He says it'll take a few days to fix. I NEED to be home by midday, Wednesday. We abandoned my car on the side of the road and someone is coming to tow it.
But on the other hand: It wasn't MY apartment, my editor was thrilled I got pictures, I blew up the power steering, not the gas line, I broke down half an hour from my parents', I didn't get killed, and coyotes wouldn't have eaten me anyway.
So it was either the worst day, or one of the luckiest. I can't really tell.