Wednesday night/Thursday morning, I was awakened at 3:45 a.m. by the smell of smoke. The first thing that ran through my head was, "Fuck. The building is on fire." I laid there for a second thinking about a plan of action. First, I decided that if I couldn't get out my door, I would climb into my loft and out the window onto the roof and work my around to the back side of the building where I could jump to the ground and still survive. (I've watched too much Alias).
Second, I thought about the things I should try to save: my cat, my camera, my computer, and my coat. (Curious alliteration here, eh?).
Third, I thought I oughtta check to make sure the smoke/fire wasn't coming from my place first. Oh yeah, and I should probably put some clothes on.
I got up, took a gander, and determined that it was definitely coming from somewhere else. Good. If the building goes up in flames, I didn't want to be the cause of setting it ablaze. I promptly got dressed, walked to my door and felt to see if it was hot. It was cold. As I walked through the halls towards the front door of the building, I could hear fire truck sirens screaming outside. I flung open the front door to see five fire engines lined up along my street in front of my building as well as a bevy of po-lice. Smoke filled the air, and I watched the firemen run into the building next door. I waited and watched for just a few minutes in true gawker style, then one by one the fire trucks and cops pulled away 'til they were all gone. I was sufficiently confused.
Where was the fire? The driver of a car that got trapped between the blocked off intersections on either end of my block told me, "They couldn't find the fire. It's not here. It's somewhere else."
Okey-dokey.
I don't know which incident is more bizarre: this one here or the one from a few weeks ago. I was awakened at 1:30 a.m. by what I thought was an aircraft (helicopter) about to crash into my apartment. Instead, it just circled right past my window with a beam spotlight on for probably 20 minutes. I was rather annoyed as I had had a difficult time falling to sleep that night and was subjected to the obnoxious sound of a loud helicopter hanging out right above my head for what seemed like an eternity.
I almost went outside to see what was going on, but then it occurred to me that if a police helicopter is circling my building at 1:30 a.m. with its beam spotlight on, then there was probably some crazed weapon-toter outside, so checking it out wouldn't necessarily be the smartest idea. The next day I found out that there was a transvestite prostitute on my corner holding people up a gunpoint.
There's some strange stuff that goes on right outside my door, and I don't even know about it.
~ the lady love
2 comments:
Man. You need to move to quiet, placid lil' Decatur, gurl!
Mark - yes, I do.
Romanlily - there is something strangely satisfying about living in this caricature while hardly evening noticing it. And living right across the street from the cop shop - well that just makes it ironic. Or maybe it's just my naïveté that lets me feel comfortable admist such chaos. But I'd rather think that I'm a little closer to the kind of person I want to be in this life. Namely, I don't want to live in fear. I think people are people, with all the same sorts of problems and reactions and impulses as each other, no matter who they are. The difference is understanding the effects of economics and culture on people's behaviors. For all in intents and purposes, I live in a semi-dangerous area. Lots of crime and drugs. Sure, I miss quieter times and places and being able to walk around by myself at night, but for now, I somewhat enjoy being in the middle of the action just as much - if not more - than the nuisances that accompany it.
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