San Francisco's Melting Pot

San Francisco is definitely a melting pot of people. Every imaginable ethnic group lives here. We have straight people, gay people; big people, little people; men who dress like women, women who dress like men; people with normal hair and bright colored hair; people with tattoos and piercings and just about anything else you can think of. Needless to say, San Francisco is a wonderful place to be. There is no other place like it in the world!

There is a transvestite near Pier 39 who always draws a crowd. He dresses in an outrageous pink long glamor dress with feathers and boas (the kind of dress you would see on a Las Vegas stage). The heels alone that he wears are a sight to be seen! He lays a pink fuzzy rug out on the bench and sprawls out. Madame Pink is in all her glory now, smiling and waving. She calls all of us "honey" or "sweetie." Always polite and always nice, she is a pleasure to stop by and chat with.

A few years ago, we met this man (also near to Pier 39) who was on the streets holding up a sign advertising his need for money. We have many homeless people in San Francisco. But something about this man caught our attention...... and funny bones. First of all, he was not the typical homeless person. He was dressed "down" but his clothes were clean. His fingernails were a bit dirty but they seemed to be stained from the nicotine. He didn't smell. Although he smoked a cigarette he was careful to keep the smoke out of the way of anyone it bothered. He had real manners for a homeless guy. What caught our attention was the sign he carried and the fact he never actually ASKED anyone for money. If they gave it, he was grateful, if not, he didn't mind.

When I first read his sign, I wasn't "thinking" (as usual). I thought he was collecting money for a "good cause." When I reread his sign, I found my heart melt. Here was this man, obviously homeless who actually had a great sense of humor! We talked to him for awhile. He seemed to be educated. He was really nice. I told him I'd give him money towards his "good cause" if he let me take a photo so I could put it up in our Fire Station. He agreed. I took only one photo and it came out perfect. He has been on our bulletin board ever since.
We have tried to look for him several times in the past to no avail. We would love to see how he is doing today. One day we hope to find him again. He really did have a big impact on our lives.... through a sign that showed humor even through difficult times.

People in San Francisco are so diverse. You never know what to expect. But your heart goes out to each and every one of them. Often you only see them once and spend the next few years wondering about them and looking at all the faces you meet just to see if just by chance one of them will be that one person who burned a memory in your heart and soul. Often you never see them again. But there are those wonderful moments when you do and you try so hard to contain your relief and happiness. It is a strange feeling.... but one most Firefighters and Paramedics experience often in San Francisco. San Francisco........ our melting pot........ the place that melts our hearts all the time.

The truth has two sides.

The jokes and the teasing of new rookies is a must in every Firehouse. It is a Rite of Passage. We all go through it and then we learn to outdo the jokes that were played on us as rookies.

I have watched young rookies trying to find out what smelled so bad no matter where they went in the Firehouse. They would ask if anyone else smelled the stench. Of course, we'd all deny that we did. Little did they know they were walking around with stink bomb liquid in their shoes.

I once played a joke on one of our rookies but it backfired on me. I had placed a bar of soap in the bathroom. This was the kind of soap that turned your hands black although the soap was white. I waited impatiently for my rookie to come and wash his hands after working on one of the rigs.

I heard the bathroom door close and jumped up to wait for the fun to happen when he emerged. I was standing there trying to quell the giggles. To my horror, out of the bathroom emerges my Captain, who obviously had just washed his face! I can imagine how my face looked at that moment.

"You ok?" he asks.

Honestly, all I could say was, "No, not now."

I headed for the apparatus bay hoping desperately for a call to come in before I got "caught" and in trouble. Time seemed to edge by slowly..... too slowly.

Then I heard the laughter. I thought things were ok. I tried to calm down. And then it came...

"SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEENAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

I cursed the rookie who was supposed to be in the bathroom with that soap.

Nick comes to me and says, "Cap wants a word with you."

"Am I in trouble?" I ask.

"For what?" he asks innocently.

Maybe it wasn't that bad after all.

Wrong.

I walked into the kitchen where my Captain was getting some coffee. He turned around and the black on his face had darkened considerably from the time I first saw him emerging from the bathroom.

Captain Harold started to scold me but the alarms rang. He hesitated at first. I mean, did he REALLY want to go out in public looking like that? Oh well, maybe they will think he came from another fire or something.

The call was uneventful and although some of the other Firefighters and Paramedics snickered at the sight of Harold, my Captain never did scold or reprimand me. I wish he had though because silence is worse than anything else. You never know when the tables will be turned on you. I am still waiting.

The guys decided to play a joke on our new rookie, Cody. While Cody was in the shower, the guys took his clothes from the shower room.

"Now THAT is a unique joke!" I commented to myself. Taking the clothes of someone showering is an old and classic joke. One just hopes they left the towel so they'd have something to cover up in while searching out the culprit of this "It's -not-funny" kind of joke.

Cody's clothes were returned. (I am in my office watching the men trek back and forth to the shower room).

"Chickens!" I am thinking.

About 10 minutes later I hear Cody curse and growl. Funny how one who never cursed before in his life learns to do so in the Firehouse!

Cody stomps into my office. "Did YOU do that?" he demands, face flushed. I am wondering what he means by "that".

"Do what?" I ask.

"Put the glue in my briefs?"

("No way! They didn't!" I am thinking. Ok, so I am probably the Master of playing jokes and pulling pranks here in the Firehouse but I HAVE to be. I am up against 16 men each and every day. I have to hold my OWN, don't I? But I would NEVER put glue in someone's briefs! Or WOULD I???)

I told Cody I didn't do anything to his briefs. God, I must be the only woman on earth who would have said this to him! Mind you, he is 28, gorgeous, tanned and really built nicely. But he IS my rookie after all and I don't allow myself to think "that way".

I am wondering what kind of glue the guys used. It might come in handy next time I play a joke ;)

Cody stomps off to find the others. Actually, he was walking kind of funny. He walks into the recreation room. The laughter is like a bunch of kindergarten kids on the playground. Cody swears to get them back. They try to blame it on me but since I wasn't laughing (yet), I was presumed innocent. (This "keeping a straight face" has saved my butt on many occasions).

Seems Cody's briefs were lined with double-sided tape in the most inappropriate place and since Cody thought it was glue...... or better yet, superglue, he was afraid to take them off for fear of removing more than just the underwear. He was assured he would remain intact and Cody left to disengage himself from his briefs.

I can tell you now... those men are in big trouble. Sometimes new rookies can get back at you in ways you never imagined!

There are always two sides to the truth. Always.

"You can let me go now."

It was a beautiful Spring afternoon. Our day had been uneventful and I was happy for this for two reasons. One... no one was needing us for an emergency or fire and, two... I had so much work to get done.

But then the call came in. From the alarms I could tell it was pretty serious. A car accident. We gathered our equipment and raced to the scene with lights and sirens. I can still remember the first thing I thought when I saw the scene. "Unbelievable!" Even before I could get out of my squad, two police officers were escorting us quite quickly to the car. I couldn't believe what I saw, even at that close proximity. There in front of me was a convertible car... a beautiful red one... and in front of it some yards away there was a big rig. Between the truck and the convertible lay a dozen or so steel pipes. Several of those pipes were inside the convertible.

Quickly assessing the situation, we realized we had two patients. A man and woman. The woman was unconscious with obvious head and chest injuries. The man was conscious and alert but becoming hysterical. He had one of those steel pipes impaled in his chest.

I came to learn that they were husband and wife. They had just been married and they were on their way to the reception. But as fate would have it, the steel pipes from the big rig in front of them on the freeway came loose and crashed onto and into their car, injuring the woman badly and impaling the man through the chest.

I had never been in this situation before. Choosing one life over another. It was breaking my heart. The woman was in critical condition. We explained this to the husband. He begged us to take his wife quickly to the hospital. The man's condition was even more critical even though he was conscious. We couldn't remove the steel pipe from his chest without a tampanade ocurring. Right now he was being kept alive BECAUSE of that pipe. It was preventing him from bleeding out. But once the pipe was removed, he would bleed out in a matter of seconds and die immediately. How do you tell someone this? How do you explain to him that he will never see his wife again and that he would die? There was no doubt about it. There was nothing we could do.

Thank goodness he wasn't in pain. He just felt "pressure." We told him what was happening and what would happen. We encouraged him to say goodbye to his wife before the ambulance took her to the hospital. He was calm. He held her hand and talked so sweetly to her even though she was unconscious. He kissed her gently and told us to hurry and take her to the hospital and asked the Paramedics to please tell the doctors to save her life.

And then she was gone and he was alone. I crawled further into the car to sit with the man. I asked him if he wanted his family to be alerted and he said no. He didn't want them to come there and be traumatized by the scene. I understood. He was Catholic and allowed a Priest to come and give him the Last Rites.

The man talked about the first time he met his wife, how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her. His voice was weakening. I had been sitting there in the car with him for an hour or so. He would close his eyes for a few moments every so often. He seemed calm despite the situation he was in. My heart was breaking for the loss of this young man. And for his wife when she would wake up and realize he was gone and she was all alone.

I couldn't cry at that moment. It wouldn't be professional. I looked at him and he said, "You can let me go now." But I didn't want to "let go." I wasn't ready. I didn't think I'd EVER be ready. I encouraged him to call his family and talk to them. I gave him my phone. At first he didn't want to. He said he didn't know what to tell them. I told him to just tell them he loved them. "Let them know you were thinking of them," I said.

So he made a few phone calls. I tried to block out his conversations. I tried to not cry. I took his vitals. He was getting weaker. I tried to think of "other" things while he talked so I wouldn't hurt inside so much. But I realized that this man must be hurting emotionally so deeply inside. I mean, he was just married and now he would never live that life. He would never have children or see his wife or family or friends ever again. And here in front of me was this calm man who wasn't afraid. I was truly humbled. I have always been afraid of death. But this man gave me the courage to face it head on in the future and accept what is beyond our own control.

He handed the phone back to me. "You can let me go now," he said again. I called my Captain to come nearby. I told him the man was ready to be freed of this metal pipe. He knew that the moment the pipe was removed, he would die. He just wanted it removed. My Captain motioned to other Firefighters and Police that were standing around. Everyone gathered around the car to pray for this man.

I was so scared. The man wasn't. I wanted to cry. The man didn't shed a tear.

I was holding the hand of this man as the pipe was removed. My free hand placed gauze pads over the wound as it spewed blood.

"Thank you for staying with me," were his last words.

I felt like crap.

His wife did survive. The funeral for her husband was postponed a bit so she could attend. After the ceremony she came up to me and gave me a hug. She had asked who tried to save her husband so she knew who I was. She thanked me and hugged me for the longest time. I felt like she was trying to "feel close" to her husband by holding close the last thing that was near to him at the time of his death.

I don't think I ever cried so much as that day. I can't think of that day without becoming emotional. I don't think I will ever be the same again.

I'm not afraid of death anymore.

REAL MEN DON'T EAT QUICHE

It is MY day to cook dinner in the Station. Finally! I really love to cook and since we take turns cooking, I always have to wait my turn.

We had just finished up on a non-emergency call in the city. I called in to Dispatch to let them know we would not be available for about an hour. Another Station would cover us in the meantime. We drove to Fishermen's Wharf. I wanted to make Cioppino (Italian fish soup) for dinner and I needed some fish and shellfish.

"Ciao Giuseppe!" I greet the owner of the fish market.

I tell him the 2 kinds of fish I need and how much. I proceed to order the shellfish... mussels, scallops, crab, squid....... no, never mind the squid..... that is gross....... ok, octopus........ nope, sorry........ can't eat anything with more legs than me.......... ok, how about OYSTERS? I love smoked oysters.

"What KIND of oysters?" Giuseppe asks.

I didn't know there were different KINDS of oysters. And they don't have SMOKED oysters. But an oyster is an oyster, NO???

"What KIND?" he asks again.

"Ok, well, the biggest ones you got," I say.

"Ok, but what KIND?" again he asks.

I look at my partner, Rick. "What the heck does he mean?" I whisper. Rick shrugs his shoulders. He has this strange look on his face.

"Just order MOUNTAIN oysters," he suggests.

Ok. Sounds good. Although for a split second I am wondering how it is possible there are oysters in the mountain....... but I am kind of dumb so I don't question this.

"Giuseppe? Give me three pounds of MOUNTAIN oysters," I say.

(SILENCE)

"Are you SURE?" he asks.

"Yes, I am sure" I tell him.

(LAUGHTER)

"My dear! Are you SURE you want MOUNTAIN oysters???"

(There is even more laughter amongst the crowd at the market).

I am getting agitated now. We have to get back to the Station and I don't know why Giuseppe wants to play games with me right now. He knows we are in a hurry.

(And why the heck is Rick acting really strange right now????)

Giuseppe tells me they don't HAVE Mountain oysters there at the fish market.

Ok, why didn't he tell me this to begin with???

Giuseppe grills me now. What do I think Mountain Oysters are?

Uh........ oysters from the moutains?

It is then that I am told "MOUNTAIN OYSTERS" are the testicles of a bull.

Darn!

I could really strangle Rick! He set me up in this most embarrassing situation with all those people around dying of laughter.


We ended up having something else for dinner that night...

in honor of the book.......

"REAL MEN DON'T EAT QUICHE."


(P.S. We had the quiche because honestly, I was afraid to open the package from the fish market. I wasn't sure what I'd be getting!)

The Handshake

I was in the bathroom...... kind of hiding.... if you want me to be truthful. I did NOT want to meet a certain government official that had come to our Firehouse. I know how my Captain is. He will start bragging about me and make me feel embarrassed. I know he doesn't mean to. I know he is proud of me. I am proud of me too. But I am also proud of all my men. So I am wondering why he can't introduce my men to this government official. Oh, okay....... he already has. I am the last one left. And there I am in the bathroom, not wanting to come out.

"Come on, Sheena! Get out of the bathroom! I have someone for you to meet!" he says through the door.

"I'm busy!" I tell him.

"Well, stop being busy and get out here! You are embarrassing me!"

I care a lot for Captain Harold. I didn't want to embarrass him. He sure has a way of making me feel guilty. Darn!

5 minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom. My god..... they are all standing outside that bathroom door! What's up with THAT???

"Sheena, I'd like you to meet our Mayor."

I shook hands with the Mayor. He is suddenly shocked. He looks at his hand. It is dripping wet. Oh my god....... I forgot to dry my hands afterwards in all my nervousness.

"I'm sorry," I tell the Mayor. "I suppose I should have washed my hands first." (I meant DRY... but by that time, the Mayor had the most disgusted look on his face). I look at my men. They are trying so hard to keep straight faces.

My Captain does his signature gesture of "I can't believe she did/said that!" by slapping his forehead. At least I won't have to endure this meeting again!

;)))

SUPERGLUE

One morning I was getting dressed into my uniform in the Firehouse. It figures..... the alarms would call us to duty.... and the button on my pants would pop off. I grabbed the Superglue from the counter and glued my button back on. It would hold until we got back from this call and I could sew it back on properly.

I forgot about the button over the next three hours that we were out in the field for various, non-emergency calls.

Upon returning to the Station, I had to pee really bad (I didn't get to go BEFORE we went on our calls). It was then that I realized Superglue is great stuff until it GOES WRONG. In the bathroom, I couldn't unbutton my pants. I tried in desperation but was unsuccessful. Seems the Superglue went through all the layers of fabric..... EVEN to my underwear. I was in a terrible predicament.

I called my partner, Rick, to help me. Not only was the button securely attached to my pants.... my pants were securely attached to my underwear.... and my underwear was securely attached to the skin on my belly. Rick tried to pull the fabric away but even HE was unsuccessful.

(I honestly believe you cannot be efficient when you are laughing your head off at something!)

I really had to pee.

I was desperate. I ended up cutting my pants off at the waistband. I swear.... I "wore" that darn button on my stomach for the next few days until I was able to pry it off.

No one will allow me to use Superglue anymore.

:-(((

The Bratwurst Incident

Most of us are good cooks in the Firehouse. The ones who aren't only get to eat. I love to cook. I have learned a lot over the years from watching others and experimenting. We often improvise our meals when the alarms are ringing and calls are coming in. We cook (and eat) around those calls.

It was a warm summer evening and we had a BBQ going. We were cooking bratwurst on the grill for dinner. Bratwurst for 16 men. Not me. I don't like hot dogs or sausages or anything else with that "shape". I microwaved a Veggie Burger for myself that night. All the side dishes were cooked, the salad was made, the bread was on the table. In walks 4 "City Officials" to our Firehouse. At dinnertime, too! Since we were ready to sit down and eat, we couldn't be rude so we invited them to have dinner with us. We would arrange something. We didn't have time to BBQ more bratwursts but I told my Captain we'd manage and I would take care of everything.

I can cook ANYTHING in a microwave. I am good at it. Better than at a BBQ, for sure! (So I thought). Well, everyone is sitting at the table, I open the microwave to bring out the 4 newly cooked bratwursts and to my horror, they didn't quite look like the ones that came from the BBQ. But what could I do? Everyone was waiting to eat.

(Mind you, I am the only woman in our Department of 16 men).

I put a cover on the bratwursts and prayed like heck we had four vegetarians at the table. No such luck. When the pan was uncovered, I jumped up from the table to serve those bratwursts and trying oh so hard not to show any emotion (seriously, I thought I'd die right there!), I placed one of those brat-wanna-be's on 3 of my men's plates and the fourth one on one of the City Official's plate. We said grace and it was time to eat. Everyone was staring at each other. No one said a word. It was dead silent.

(By the way, my Veggie Burger was quite good!)

Everyone picked up their silverware to start eating but no one could take the first bite. Seemed like everyone was waiting for everyone else to start. In my mind I was wondering what was going through their heads and if I were them, what I be thinking? The nuked bratwursts were the center of attention at first.... but the people who was supposed to EAT those brats became even more the center of attention. It was just a nuked bratwurst versus a BBQ'd brat for goodness sake!

Now that I think about it.... I suppose eating those nuked bratwursts were one of the most uncomfortable situations those four men ever had to endure. And with others STARING at them? I mean, it must have become a life-changing moment for them.

I don't think I would have wanted to be a man that night. Not even for a second!




Sometimes "improvising" doesn't work. Neither do guests who show up unexpectedly at dinnertime! ;)

By the way, what IS the proper way to eat a nuked bratwurst?????

Mistaken Identity

San Francisco is a melting pot of people. We have every nationality in our city, ever gender, every non-gender, every anything-you-can-imagine. But what it all boils down to is that they are all human beings that deserve respect and concern.

Two very specific incidents come to my mind. Two I will never forget:

On a very warm summer night, we got a call for a possible heart attack or stroke. The Dispatcher wasn't sure due to the language barrier of the Asian man on the phone. But he was hysterical and we responded to the call with lights and sirens.

Arriving at the apartment building, we realized we had to climb 5 stories. The building was old and there was no elevator. 60 pounds of Bunker clothes, all our equipment (if this was indeed a heart attack, we couldn't waste time running back down to our Squad to retrieve it).... not to mention the heat. All this was not in our favor tonight. By the time we arrived at the fifth floor landing, we we pretty much out of breath. Carrying all that weight is not so easy, believe me!

The man answers the door when we knock. He is truly in a state of distress. Through broken English, he is trying to tell us that "she" (his wife? his daughter? his mother?) is in bad shape. The woman must be in cardiac arrest or in this stifling heat, perhaps suffering a heat stroke.

We are ready to revive this woman. We have all our medical equipment; we are highly trained for this kind of emergency. The man leads us into a bedroom to the patient. We all rush in prepared to do our jobs. We stop in our tracks in the doorway though.

Lying on the bed is a limp and obviously recently dead chicken. We look at each other in disbelief. So this is what I was "trained" to do? Revive a chicken? I don't know if I want to break out in a fit of giggles or be angry at the false 911 call. I refrain from the giggles but can't muster the strength to be angry since I am desperately holding back all my laughter. My Captain tries to tell the man that the bird is dead and we can't do anything to help it. The man is so distraught. He NEEDS his chicken alive. I have to leave the room before I die of laughter. Later I find out the man was planning to serve the bird at a dinner party for his brother's anniversary but the bird was not big enough yet an needed to live longer to get fattened up.

I became a vegetarian that night.


As I was saying... We have many different kinds of people in our city. I thought I knew them all. Perhaps I was wrong on this one particular night. A call from Dispatch for a woman in labor on the street send us scurrying to the scene. One thing we can't tolerate is losing a patient... let alone a baby.

Upon arrival, we find a very pregnant woman lying on the sidewalk writhing in pain. She looks to be a full 9 months pregnant. She is crying and complaining of "the pain." The police move back the crowd that has gathered around us. We drape covers over her. Since she is wearing a dress, it makes it easy for me to exam her. I proceed to examine her. Even I can't believe the words that come out of my mouth.

"We have BALLS here!"

My Captain looks at me in a panic and asks, "She is giving birth to a baby boy???? ALREADY?"

"No," I say. "We have BALLS."

Everyone looks at me strangely.

I know that no matter WHAT I say now..... it won't make sense. But I try. "She is NOT a woman. She is a MAN!"

"WHAT?" my Captain asks loudly. I think he can't hear me so I repeat it even louder (perhaps a bit TOO loud!)..... "This is a MAN!"

My patient was an overweight drag queen. Looked pregnant. Complained of abdominal pain (which we so innocently took as labor pains considering the whole scenario!)

What we had in the end was a man......... (whatever!)........ who had a painful kidney stone and bladder infection.

I stand corrected on this one.... and still trying to stifle the giggles.

:-)))

Thinking outside the Bunker Coat

It isn't that I am dumb... or at least that is what I think. And it isn't that I can't handle myself in stressful situations. What I DON'T like is having "all attention on me" when I am in the public view. I have often turned over the "glory" to one of my men in the Firehouse because I could not deal with the attention the media tried to give me. My partner, Rick, has been a "HERO" more times than I can count (combining his and my own "accomplishments.") I don't feel like I am a hero when I save a life. I just feel happy and grateful that that person will be here tomorrow to enjoy the sunrise. This is my reward.... nothing else.

So it is an ordinary day..... with ordinary things happening. I was trying to forget the previous day that I got an illegal parking ticket for parking on the sidewalk on one of San Francisco's streets. I mean.... the parking situation is BAD there...... most every parking spot is a PREPAID parking place. What was I to do when a 911 call sent me out to the city???? I parked on the sidewalk to avoid blocking traffic. The call was a stroke victim. As we were rushing our patient to the squad..... there it was....... ON THE WINDSHIELD UNDER THE WIPER. A ticket. A ticket for illegal parking on the street. Now..... tell me please! What kind of police officer would TICKET a city Fire Department Rescue Squad??? Well, as far as I was concerned......... a drunk one.... or tired one........ or one who was a stone's throw away from a brain.

That was yesterday. Today I am still trying to ignore it. We get a call for a "domestic violence" incident. The scene is not secure yet so we wait by our Squad waiting to run in and save the day. I live for this.... I long for these moments... my adrenaline is going....... I am waiting.

I get out of my Squad and close the door. I take a step away to start gathering our gear.... "just in case".... and something is holding me back. It seems that the back of my Bunker Coat got caught in the door when I slammed it closed and I was pinned to the Squad. Damn! To top it off, I had locked the keys in the squad.... a bad habit of mine even in my own personal vehicle (but at least I have a "spare" hidden under the bumper!

So there I am...... "attached" to my Squad with no escape. I call out to my partner. He is laughing hysterically. I tell him to shut up and have some respect and all he can say is, "Whatcha gonna do? Come AFTER me???" I hate my partner right now. Really I do. He tells me he will call our Captain. He does, and Captain Harold says he will be there in 20 minutes. I am ready to die of embarrassment. So many people are gathering around the Squad. The lights are still flashing. I can't even get into it to turn them off. I have noticed the "public" loves sirens and red flashing lights. I can relate to them. I get the same "high" even after all these years when I see those lights or hear that wail of the siren. I know.... I am strange. But to me....... so are those people standing around..... and multiplying...... around us.

THIRTY minutes later......... Captain Harold arrives. He looks at me...... assesses the situation....... looks around........ does some strange inspection. I am ready to scream at him to OPEN THE DOOR but I don't want to push my luck. This is not the first time (or last, I suppose) that he will save my butt.

He walks up to me and tells me I don't need him.

"WHAT???" I ask.

"You don't need me."

"Yes I do," I tell him. "I need you to UNLOCK the door!"

He looks at me again and claims I don't need him. I am ready to strangle him.

"YES I DO! UNLOCK THE DOOR!" I (quietly) scream.

"Have you not considered this?" he asks. "You could have UNBUTTONED your Bunker Coat and just walked away from all this!"

Well......... DUH!!!!!!!!!

Animals in the Firehouse

I woke up this morning to find the cat sitting in the corner of the recreation room, facing the wall. He just sat there looking at the wall as though he had been punished.

"Ok, WHO put the cat on TIME-OUT?" I shout.

I ask this because we have a Firefighter here who actually put two fish that were in the tank on time-out. Seems they were those Indian Kissing Fish and they kept kissing and chasing each other all through the tank. HE thought they were fighting. So he threw one of them into a glass bowl to cool off. Go figure.

We are not a normal Firehouse. We don't have a Dalmatian.... the mascot of any normal Fire Station. No, no, no. We have a duck. Yes, a duck. We acquired him against our wishes. Some time ago, we were finishing up at the scene of a fire and lo and behold... sitting there on the back of the rig was a duck. Since there was a nearby park, we figured he got confused in all the confusion and smoke and ended up on our rig. My partner picked up the duck and walked him across the street to the park and left him there.

As we were driving away, that duck flew next to our rig and landed on the top. We pulled over and removed the bird and continued on. That duck caught up with us two more times and both times he was removed. Feeling he got the message, we headed to our Station. Unfortunately, so did that darn duck. He wouldn't leave. He made himself at home in our Station and has been with us ever since. He was named Seguace (meaning "follower").

That duck is not normal. Obviously! He lives in a not-normal Firehouse. He drinks from my coffee cup (I know this because there is always duck slobber in my cup). He is "potty trained" (he quacks to go outside to do his thing). He eats spaghetti. He has a fit if he sees us eat chicken. Like I said, he is not normal. What can I say? Perhaps one day we will have duck for dinner. At least it would be much quieter around here. ;-)

So the cat is not normal and the duck is not normal. Neither are the 16 men who work here.... ok, minus Captain Harold. He is in charge. Wait, he can't be normal if he is still here in charge of all of us. I am second in line. Most would think I am not normal either. Well, this might be true.... but at least I have an excuse: I am blonde. (Good enough excuse as any!)

Thinking outside the box

Seriously, there were days in my life when things were normal. That all changed when I joined the Fire Academy. Things got strange then. I said things I didn't remember.... I couldn't remember what I knew. I literally became an idiot in hours. I thought I knew everything. In reality I knew nothing and yet, years later, the "teachers" of that Academy tell me I taught them a whole lot. They never said what I taught them as a student...... perhaps it was that there was no limit to what God could produce in this world to make others stand in one place with their mouths open in disbelief.


I remember in the Academy, there were 9 of us "wanna-be-Firefighters" who were standing in a 12 foot by 12 foot square box that was marked in white paint on the concrete. We were learning about fire extinguishers and which ones work on various types of fires. I have always been nervous in public. I hate being the center of attention. So there I am, being questioned about the use of fire extinguishers and WHICH one did I think would put out the fire in front of me.... (it was an electrical fire). Unable to think, I panicked and therefore did nothing. (You wouldn't have wanted ME to come to your house to put out a fire during these days........ believe me!)

The more the Instructor shouted for answers, the more nervous I got.

"THINK QUICK! Which extinguisher would you use to put out this fire?"

(No answer from me. I am thinking)

"The house is on fire. What will you do???"

(No answer. I am still thinking. I don't see a house....)

"The house is TOTALLY engulfed in flames! Think OUTSIDE THE BOX! What would you do???"

In my nervousness, I ran "outside the box"....... outside the perimeter of that 12 x 12 foot painted area.... to THINK.... like I was told.

"What the hell are you doing???" the Instructor shouts.

"I am THINKING OUTSIDE THE BOX, sir!!!" I shout back.

If this was my job at that time, I am sure I would have been immediately fired. The laughter from my other classmates didn't help me at this time. Nothing could.