THANKFUL? YOU BET!

Friday, November 4, 2022, 11:00 a.m.

I smell smoke.  I open my apartment door.   Yep! I smell smoke.  I close the door and call the concierge downstairs. A trusted concierge answers the phone. I say, “I smell smoke.” She says, “Don’t worry, they are testing the gas fireplace in the library.”  Okay, she’s never lied to me before.  I open my balcony doors to let in the fresh air, turn on the TV and put a pot of soup on the stove.

Then, a very loud alarm shrieks,  “THERE’S A FIRE IN THE BUILDING. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!”  The message is repeated over and over.  In the past three years, I have ignored the  several (someone has burnt the toast) false evacuation alarms, but I knew this was not a false alarm when someone banged on my door and shouted, “Leave your apartment immediately!” I knew the situation was serious, because I had paid my rent, and nevertheless they were yelling for me to “GET OUT!”  I then stepped onto the balcony and saw staff folks leading people out of the building.  This was when I figured that I’d better turn off the TV and stop heating the soup. The concierge called me and said, “I was wrong!  It’s a real fire. Get out of your apartment.”

It was now 11:30 a.m. I was dressed and prepared to go for a mammogram which was scheduled for 1:00 p.m. When I left the building, I saw a couple of fire trucks and a small stream of billowing smoke coming from the roof.  I told a friend about my 1:00 appointment, and she said, “You’d better leave now while you can still get out.” So, I jumped into my car and drove to the front entrance where I saw four more parked fire trucks. I drove between them. One of the drivers honked at me.  I thought he was waving, “Hello!” But now that I think of it, he was probably shaking his fist at me. So now where do I go?

I killed some time browsing merchandise in a store nearby. When the clerk asked me, “Can I help you?” I said, “No, I’m just here because my apartment building is on fire.” I finally drove to the radiology building and arrived an hour before my appointment. Luckily, I had a pen and a small paper notebook in my purse, so I spent the hour writing a story about shrinking airplane seats.

My mammogram didn’t take long, and now it was 1:00 p.m.  I tried to call several of my friends, but no one answered their phones. I found out later that in the rush to evacuate, cell phones had been left in apartments.  At 2 p.m. I finally reached a friend and asked, “Is it okay to come back now?” She said, “Whatever you do, don’t come back. Everyone is crowded into the Ranch House” (a meeting hall across the street from the smoke filled building). So, I went to a nearby restaurant and had a bowl of soup, which was much better than the one I had planned to eat at home. I finally, returned to the Ranch House at 3:30 p.m.

The sight that greeted me at the Ranch House was neighbors crammed into the space and calmly sitting around, eating pizza. It looked like a pajama party gone awry. Some of my friends had not had time to get dressed. Obviously, it was a “come as you are” event. Many people had been there now for four hours.  A woman from a nearby house brought dog treats for evacuated pets, and toilet paper for the overused bathrooms.  Other kind neighbors had opened their homes for a few of the evacuees. I was told that as many as 12 firetrucks had been on site.  The kitchen staff delivered a dinner of pasta and salmon with capers  at 5 p.m.  It takes more than fire and smoke to deter our chefs. The firemen checked all of the gas lines in the building before we were allowed to return to our apartments at 6 p.m.

The good news: The fire had been put out immediately.  The bad news: The building was filled with smoke.
Saturday, November 5, 2022:

The good news: Experts arrived to rid the building of smoke, and the library books were saved. The bad news: I am allergic to smoke and developed a cough and laryngitis.

The good news: When people approached me to talk. I showed them a sign that said, “This is your lucky day.  I have laryngitis.”

Today, two weeks of coughing, not talking and little sleep are behind me, and to everyone’s chagrin, I can talk again.  I threw away the coagulated soup on my stove top and happily the garbage disposal didn’t reject it.

Everyone is safe. The building is almost not stinky anymore, and I am looking forward to a Thanksgiving extravaganza—and—-

I wish all of you a most HAPPY THANKSGIVING.

Esther Blumenfeld