My true colors
Today, the fire alarm went off at work. I assume it was a drill; I didn't see any smoke.
As I was climbing down the stairs in a crowded stairwell, I was reminded of the smoke alarm that went off at about two o'clock in the morning that one night last spring in Broderick Tower.
I used to live in a high rise apartment building, with a bedroom on the 22nd floor. I remember that alarm ringing like it was yesterday. I was woken out of a deep sleep. It took a good fifteen seconds to realize what was happening. And then, I snapped into gear. My heart started racing and my body shaking as I began to hurry toward the stairwell.
My husband wasn't in such a hurry. He took his time getting dressed, using the bathroom, etc. While he was brushing his teeth, he reminded me I might be outside a while and I should put on something warmer. I obliged and threw on the nearest sweatshirt, all the time wondering why he wasn't hurrying up! Was I the only person treating this like an emergency?!
Finally, he got his butt out the door, just when I was thinking of leaving him behind. And we began the descent. My adrenaline was pumping and my muscles were tense, so climbing down was rather difficult. But I made my way down.
There weren't many people on the stairs; maybe they'd already made it to safety. We did encounter one girl though. She was struggling to bring two dogs down the stairs. One of the dogs was completely terrified. The alarm did make a very loud "bonnnk! bonnnk! bonnnk!" so I can see why it was frightened. It managed to wrestle its way out of its leash/collar and wasn't following the rest of us down the stairs.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted that girl to hurry up so we all didn't go up in flames. I was waiting for my husband to be the hero and scoop the dog up in his arms and offer to carry it the rest of the way. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders, told the girl her dog wasn't coming, and guided me past her on our way downstairs, leaving her behind in her predicament.
And then we smelled something burning...
We were still probably twelfth floor or so at this point. Things got a little more serious as we continued down the stairs, a bit more quickly. All the while, I couldn't help feeling more and more terrible for how we'd left that girl up there with the dogs.
We made it outside and waited around for 20 minutes or so. It turned out that some drunk girl had burnt her popcorn, seen flames, and pulled the fire alarm. She freely admitted to this in the lobby by the elevators. Meanwhile, dozens of grumpy tired people just glared at her. I was just trying to avoid eye contact with the dog girl. I felt like such a jerk.
Nothing like a pseudo-emergency to let your real character shine through. I was so concerned about my own life I couldn't stop to help save someone else's. And Mark never treated the incident like an emergency. He thought leaving that girl behind in the stairwell would teach her a lesson about having annoying dogs.
Since the incident, I've tried to justify my behavior. I was very tired, not thinking straight. After all, I'd only woken up less than fifteen minutes ago. And like on an airplane, aren't you supposed to secure your own oxygen mask before helping other people? It's just protocol, to look after yourself first, right?
Anyway, everyone ended up okay, no injuries or deaths. I shouldn't feel bad. And yet, I can never quite let go of what happened that night. It's like that movie we saw--Force Majeure, an Swedish film with a similar situation of people's behavior in an emergency and the uncomfortable after-effects when a man chooses to save himself instead of stay to protect his family. After seeing the film, I remember wondering how I'd react in such a situation; now I know.
As I was climbing down the stairs in a crowded stairwell, I was reminded of the smoke alarm that went off at about two o'clock in the morning that one night last spring in Broderick Tower.
I used to live in a high rise apartment building, with a bedroom on the 22nd floor. I remember that alarm ringing like it was yesterday. I was woken out of a deep sleep. It took a good fifteen seconds to realize what was happening. And then, I snapped into gear. My heart started racing and my body shaking as I began to hurry toward the stairwell.
My husband wasn't in such a hurry. He took his time getting dressed, using the bathroom, etc. While he was brushing his teeth, he reminded me I might be outside a while and I should put on something warmer. I obliged and threw on the nearest sweatshirt, all the time wondering why he wasn't hurrying up! Was I the only person treating this like an emergency?!
Finally, he got his butt out the door, just when I was thinking of leaving him behind. And we began the descent. My adrenaline was pumping and my muscles were tense, so climbing down was rather difficult. But I made my way down.
There weren't many people on the stairs; maybe they'd already made it to safety. We did encounter one girl though. She was struggling to bring two dogs down the stairs. One of the dogs was completely terrified. The alarm did make a very loud "bonnnk! bonnnk! bonnnk!" so I can see why it was frightened. It managed to wrestle its way out of its leash/collar and wasn't following the rest of us down the stairs.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted that girl to hurry up so we all didn't go up in flames. I was waiting for my husband to be the hero and scoop the dog up in his arms and offer to carry it the rest of the way. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders, told the girl her dog wasn't coming, and guided me past her on our way downstairs, leaving her behind in her predicament.
And then we smelled something burning...
We were still probably twelfth floor or so at this point. Things got a little more serious as we continued down the stairs, a bit more quickly. All the while, I couldn't help feeling more and more terrible for how we'd left that girl up there with the dogs.
We made it outside and waited around for 20 minutes or so. It turned out that some drunk girl had burnt her popcorn, seen flames, and pulled the fire alarm. She freely admitted to this in the lobby by the elevators. Meanwhile, dozens of grumpy tired people just glared at her. I was just trying to avoid eye contact with the dog girl. I felt like such a jerk.
Nothing like a pseudo-emergency to let your real character shine through. I was so concerned about my own life I couldn't stop to help save someone else's. And Mark never treated the incident like an emergency. He thought leaving that girl behind in the stairwell would teach her a lesson about having annoying dogs.
Since the incident, I've tried to justify my behavior. I was very tired, not thinking straight. After all, I'd only woken up less than fifteen minutes ago. And like on an airplane, aren't you supposed to secure your own oxygen mask before helping other people? It's just protocol, to look after yourself first, right?
Anyway, everyone ended up okay, no injuries or deaths. I shouldn't feel bad. And yet, I can never quite let go of what happened that night. It's like that movie we saw--Force Majeure, an Swedish film with a similar situation of people's behavior in an emergency and the uncomfortable after-effects when a man chooses to save himself instead of stay to protect his family. After seeing the film, I remember wondering how I'd react in such a situation; now I know.
Comments