Doreen and the Fire Truck

Fire

Fire

There is just a smoldering hulk across the street as I look out my window. Flames break through occasionally, and are extinguished lackadaisically. About 20 firemen are standing with their equipment off, about 5 cops watching, and a couple of suited up firemen walking in the building with bright flashlights that shine through the window occasionally.

About 4:10 I heard a loud pounding downstairs. Some of you may remember that we live in an urban neighborhood, and any case for loud noises at 4:00 AM is not good news. I got out of bed and shouted. The dog woke up and started barking. Doreen grabbed the phone and called 911. I put on some clothes and started down the stairs reluctantly, dog barking, me shouting. Doreen was on the phone to 911 – the police, and I said “There is someone on the porch!” I look out the window of the house and see a 25 year old kid dressing in an army jacket staring through my door, shouting. I went down and he was yelling “Fire, man! That house is on fire! That apartment!” I shouted up to Doreen, “FIRE!!!” and she called 911 again.

I walked outside and saw that the abandoned apartments across the street had some flames, not too many, coming out of the lower windows. I could start to smell the smoke and you could see that there was quite a fire starting. Doreen came outside and we waited in the street for the fire truck. We heard the first truck almost immediately, but it felt as if it took them 20 minutes to get here (I am sure it was closer to 3). They turned off of Montrose and were headed down Harold. I could see that they were searching for the address, when I got in the street and waved my arms I must be a big target, for they saw me and accelerated down the street.

We didn’t speak, and as soon as they saw the fire they stopped and started their routine. The hydrant (right across the street from the apartments) was connected to the truck, and firemen suited up and ran towards the building. Several more trucks arrived (I see eight out there right now as the search for charred bodies is going on) and the first blast of water hit the apartments. The smoke, smelling of plastic and wood, blanketed the street. The police were blocking off the street, and Doreen and I were watching alongside them.

At one point we were chatting with the policemen (The firemen were occupied) and were heard a saw start up in the apartments. One of the cops look at the other and said. “I knew I should have gone to HFD< I could have busted up stuff!” the other cop laughed, and then they both complained that the smoke was going to linger in their clothes for several days. (And, I fear, in our house)

The fire seemed to last forever, but it is only 5:10 as I write this. As I mentioned above, they are now searching all of the buildings (there are three) for any bodies. The apartments were the on again off again home to street kids (whom I have written of before) and no doubt that is who started the fire in an effort to keep warm.

As all the ruckus was dying down, our reliable NYTimes delivery guy (A west African) calmly walked through the fire trucks and police cars to deliver the paper. It was a funny to see something so prosaic in the middle of a flurry of activity.

Now our house is smoky, and Doreen has put out small bowls of vinegar (20 year old balsamic) to help reduce the smell. I hope it works.