Friday, February 10, 2012

thmoke, thmoke, thmoke...FIBER!

It can be mind-boggling to ponder the little twists of chance and happenstance that affect our lives. Most of the time these twists go unnoticed, but every so often they jump right out at us...an amazing opportunity or an awful experience that either happened or didn't, simply because we took the scenic route...or because we arrived an hour early, or an hour late...or because we forgot our keys and had to go home unplanned.
Or in today's case, a fanny pack.
Today's experience didn't qualify as life-changing. But watching your neighbor's home go up in flames ain't nothin'.
I had jumped on my bike to hit some thrift stores, a trip that was going to take at least an hour. As soon as i got to Goodwill, i realized i wasn't wearing my fanny pack. Returning home, i heard sirens. When i turned onto my street, i saw five fire trucks where none had been, six minutes before. And then i remembered, when i had left, there had been some type of city vehicle at the end of my street, with lights flashing. I'd thought nothing of it.
The flames were coming out the second story of a home two houses away from mine. They were pretty enormous, reaching three feet out and seven or eight up. I heard murmurs that everyone had gotten out, but immediately calculated that the house was lost, and possibly even a neighboring house or two (in other words, mine). I went inside and alerted my housemate and his guest. I went to the basement to get my fanny pack, and looked around. I already had my computer files on a data traveller (i almost never leave home without them). I grabbed but one thing: the $1300 i keep "under my mattress".
I returned outside to watch the spectacle. After a minute, an authority asked me to get the people out of my house.
And then, in less than five minutes, it was all over.
The smoke had turned in my direction, so i headed off on my original journey, filled with a tremendous admiration for firefighters. The efficiency with which they plied their trade that day was striking. I'm sure new developments in flame-retardant technology has made their work easier, but still...
They run into burning buildings to save people's lives.
I may not be able to sell you today on the idea that no one should earn more than anyone else...but can i sell you on the idea that no one should earn more than a firefighter? Not doctors, not scientists (and certainly not soulless CEOs).
They run into burning buildings to save people's lives.
It also occurred to me that, in a fair world, given the danger/stress quotient, each firefighter's workweek should be three days long. If that sounds nutty, you might not think so if you walked a day in their shoes.
Once upon a time, i intended to be a fireman.
This wasn't some childhood dream. It was an intent i had for about two months, in my twenties. Around the time i finished working with the mentally retarded, i decided i wanted to do another kind of service work before going into the arts. I must have seen ROXANNE around that time, for i hit on the idea of being a firefighter in the Rockies for a year or so. Then i took a short trip to FL that ended up being a long trip, and my life went in other directions.
When i got home today, my domestic life was singularly untouched. There is police tape between us and our neighbor's house. It looks like they're sleeping somewhere else tonight.
Today, i also debunked the notion that strange things happen in threes, as today is now yesterday, and no third strange thing happened. On my thrift store trip, i was biking along, and heard a loud, frightening LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA behind me. An SUV went by, listing at a bizarre angle. Both of its left tires were nearly gone. It smelled awful. Within one hundred feet, it pulled over. As i passed, i thought, "Well, your trip is done, sir". The driver didn't seem to be paying attention to his wheels, however, just shifting some of the contents in his vehicle. I was able to glance at his wheels more closely, and became even more perplexed. It seemed as if he had plastered nearly an inch of duct tape around each tire.
A minute later, i heard it again. LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA-LUBBA! I tensed, and again Mr. SUV passed. I was disturbed by the bizarreness. Was he trying to make it home? I then heard him pull over again, just as i saw a cop do a 180 and head after him. Given that his behavior only made sense for someone on the lam, i pulled up about forty feet behind, in case i was about to witness, say, gunplay.
After a couple minutes and no shots, i passed them.
I couldn't make anything from their body language, which was partly obscured.
Another day in the city.

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