So the garbage fire from Tuesday night has ignited (yessssssss!!) a bit of discussion in the neighborhood. Primo Brooklyn Heights blog Brooklyn Heights Blog cites metro papyrus source Brooklyn Daily Eagle (do not pardon their website appearance; it's 2008, that's just inexcusable), who asks the bold question, "Was the fire arson?". Seeing how damp piles of garbage tend not to spontaneously combust, 123 Awesome Street is firmly in the "it was arson" camp. And unless we're living next to a mysterious political target, we're hoping this was just random and will never experience anything like it ever again. Having said that, today we will be picking up a new fire extinguisher, checking our smoke detector batteries, and sleeping under two heavy fire-proof blankets all summer.
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Results tagged “fire”
So long time no blog, yeah yeah. Cousin Meg was in town for a week and couldn't blog about it because it was a surprise return home early for her and I (almost) ruined the surprise by commenting online, Blondie and I are committing to summer dietary changes, Mom had successful hip surgery yesterday, I start new job on Monday, IRA mutual fund is doing well, just bought a giraffe, organizing full risk assessment reports for Operation Jupiter's feasibility with the Farmer's Almanac barometric predications for summer 2008.
But, most recently and self-centered: We almost died last night!!! (Technically, that's not true, but how else would you explain my dreams of being engulfed in flames?)
At about midnight, we were in bed, Amber passing out slowly, and my starting Palahniuk's new novel. We heard some kids in the street, which is kind of a rarity in this neighborhood, especially that late on a week night, and not during summer. They were talking loudly, and I think we murmured outloud, something along the lines of "dang kids", as we are technically Old People.
A couple minutes after - and I don't remember which happened first - heard a bang, and we smelled smoke. Our neighbors will occasionally sit on the front porch to smoke, and when we have our windows open at night, the smell wafts in. We attributed the light odor to this. But the bang was an off sound, and it was followed by louder sounds from the Dang Kids, so I turned off the lights to better see out the window into the streets - we thought they might have been smashing in car windows - and that's when I saw, next door, a 25-foot inferno of flaming garbage!!!
By "25-foot" I mean 5-foot, but it was pretty scary:
(The picture was taken, obviously, a little later, when the fire department first arrived. I earned my stripes taking this picture: one of the larger, scarier volunteers yelled at me.)
Once I saw the fire from the bedroom - and it was raging a bit more than this picture shows (more on this act of heroism in a minute) - I threw the lights on, yelled at Amber to get up and put Baker in the cat carrier (more on this psychological endeavor in a minute), and ran outside. You can see from the picture that this is our direct neighbor's garbage; our buildings' is one pile to the left. Also, we live in the garden apartment, so being in the bedroom and looking out at this fire puts it right at eye level, which was pretty freaky.
When I hit the pavement, I could see the kids in the street behind it, a ways back, and I yelled if anyone called the fire department, which is (awesomely) right at the corner. I don't remember if they yelled back, but I'm sure they got a kick out of an overweight lunatic running outside in shorts and no shirt or shoes. To them, I'm sure this was just a local Burning Man festival. Dang Kids.
The fire was pretty intense - I could feel it from our walkway (~15 ft. away). Amber was already on the phone calling for the fire department when I ran back inside, and I yelled for the fire extinguisher. (We have a small one under the kitchen sink.) I guess it didn't dawn on me to put a shirt on and minimize the horrors of onlookers, so I just ran back outside in all chunky, hairy glory. I took the pin out of the extinguisher and checked the nozzle end about 6 times, to make sure I had the right end. See, I had a brief glimpse of the already comical scene of this half-naked Yeti running out and spraying his face with a fire extinguisher, yelling, "Get help!" I had to get the nozzle end right or potentially die in YouTube infamy.
I got it right, and 6 seconds later, the extinguisher was empty, but not before it fanned and calmed about half the overall flame. By the time the fire department showed up, it had re-raged to close it's original size. But - and this was the thinking behind prepping Baker in the carrier - my worry was the density of this bag o' flame, an adjacent car (about a foot away), and trees from the sidewalk (and the one in our front walkway). Grand Theft Auto car 'spolsions aside, it did seem like a legitimate threat, and, though I didn't see it at the time, there was a huge pile of old rugs on the far side of the flame, which was even closed to the next parked car.
So the fire department showed up, pushed a button, and 2 seconds later, the flame was out. They spent a few minutes really hosing it down, turning it over, and hosing it down more. I had yelled at one of the guys when they showed up that I had heard a loud bang earlier, thinking maybe this was the big terror threat we had all been fearing, that Code Orange warns us about. He later told me the bang was probably one of the many glass bottles in the fire. Which makes sense (I guess), but I still would've liked to see them do a full forensics test on each and every piece of garbage to rule out foul play. He also said it was probably just a cigarette or matches, and that people throw them aside all the time and just walk away without thinking. Now, because of the positioning, I doubt it was someone driving; they would've had to hurl the ciggy over the parked cars. And I'd like to think people are smarter than to directly toss fire into a pile of garbage as they walk down the sidewalk. But then again, we still have Deal or No Deal, Crocs, and fax machines, which contradicts that hope. So Dang Kids, my finger's waggling at you.
Afterwards, Amber and I recounted our experiences. Mine was a tall tale of false heroics: saving 3 orphans from the fire, salvaging priceless artwork, and single-handedly putting out the flame with my icy stare. Hers was a story of confusion and disarray: she put Baker in the "back" of the apartment and not the "bag", she answered the question of "which borough are you in?" with our street address, and at some point during the fracas, ordered Mexican food which arrived before the fire department.
But, most recently and self-centered: We almost died last night!!! (Technically, that's not true, but how else would you explain my dreams of being engulfed in flames?)
At about midnight, we were in bed, Amber passing out slowly, and my starting Palahniuk's new novel. We heard some kids in the street, which is kind of a rarity in this neighborhood, especially that late on a week night, and not during summer. They were talking loudly, and I think we murmured outloud, something along the lines of "dang kids", as we are technically Old People.
A couple minutes after - and I don't remember which happened first - heard a bang, and we smelled smoke. Our neighbors will occasionally sit on the front porch to smoke, and when we have our windows open at night, the smell wafts in. We attributed the light odor to this. But the bang was an off sound, and it was followed by louder sounds from the Dang Kids, so I turned off the lights to better see out the window into the streets - we thought they might have been smashing in car windows - and that's when I saw, next door, a 25-foot inferno of flaming garbage!!!
By "25-foot" I mean 5-foot, but it was pretty scary:
(The picture was taken, obviously, a little later, when the fire department first arrived. I earned my stripes taking this picture: one of the larger, scarier volunteers yelled at me.)Once I saw the fire from the bedroom - and it was raging a bit more than this picture shows (more on this act of heroism in a minute) - I threw the lights on, yelled at Amber to get up and put Baker in the cat carrier (more on this psychological endeavor in a minute), and ran outside. You can see from the picture that this is our direct neighbor's garbage; our buildings' is one pile to the left. Also, we live in the garden apartment, so being in the bedroom and looking out at this fire puts it right at eye level, which was pretty freaky.
When I hit the pavement, I could see the kids in the street behind it, a ways back, and I yelled if anyone called the fire department, which is (awesomely) right at the corner. I don't remember if they yelled back, but I'm sure they got a kick out of an overweight lunatic running outside in shorts and no shirt or shoes. To them, I'm sure this was just a local Burning Man festival. Dang Kids.
The fire was pretty intense - I could feel it from our walkway (~15 ft. away). Amber was already on the phone calling for the fire department when I ran back inside, and I yelled for the fire extinguisher. (We have a small one under the kitchen sink.) I guess it didn't dawn on me to put a shirt on and minimize the horrors of onlookers, so I just ran back outside in all chunky, hairy glory. I took the pin out of the extinguisher and checked the nozzle end about 6 times, to make sure I had the right end. See, I had a brief glimpse of the already comical scene of this half-naked Yeti running out and spraying his face with a fire extinguisher, yelling, "Get help!" I had to get the nozzle end right or potentially die in YouTube infamy.
I got it right, and 6 seconds later, the extinguisher was empty, but not before it fanned and calmed about half the overall flame. By the time the fire department showed up, it had re-raged to close it's original size. But - and this was the thinking behind prepping Baker in the carrier - my worry was the density of this bag o' flame, an adjacent car (about a foot away), and trees from the sidewalk (and the one in our front walkway). Grand Theft Auto car 'spolsions aside, it did seem like a legitimate threat, and, though I didn't see it at the time, there was a huge pile of old rugs on the far side of the flame, which was even closed to the next parked car.
So the fire department showed up, pushed a button, and 2 seconds later, the flame was out. They spent a few minutes really hosing it down, turning it over, and hosing it down more. I had yelled at one of the guys when they showed up that I had heard a loud bang earlier, thinking maybe this was the big terror threat we had all been fearing, that Code Orange warns us about. He later told me the bang was probably one of the many glass bottles in the fire. Which makes sense (I guess), but I still would've liked to see them do a full forensics test on each and every piece of garbage to rule out foul play. He also said it was probably just a cigarette or matches, and that people throw them aside all the time and just walk away without thinking. Now, because of the positioning, I doubt it was someone driving; they would've had to hurl the ciggy over the parked cars. And I'd like to think people are smarter than to directly toss fire into a pile of garbage as they walk down the sidewalk. But then again, we still have Deal or No Deal, Crocs, and fax machines, which contradicts that hope. So Dang Kids, my finger's waggling at you.
Afterwards, Amber and I recounted our experiences. Mine was a tall tale of false heroics: saving 3 orphans from the fire, salvaging priceless artwork, and single-handedly putting out the flame with my icy stare. Hers was a story of confusion and disarray: she put Baker in the "back" of the apartment and not the "bag", she answered the question of "which borough are you in?" with our street address, and at some point during the fracas, ordered Mexican food which arrived before the fire department.
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About
Eric Tabone is Operations Manager at the digital strategy consultancy, Undercurrent.
He lives in Brooklyn, New York with his awesome wife and two kick-ass cats.
All original opinions and commentary throughout this blog (comments excluded) are Eric's alone, and do not necessarily represent Undercurrent in any way.
All original opinions and commentary throughout this blog (comments excluded) are Eric's alone, and do not necessarily represent Undercurrent in any way.