"i'm on fire!! help me baby jesus! help me oprah! help me tom cruise!"

last night at around 8:30 pm, i was watching television and was rudely interrupted by the clamour of a fire engine ... siren wailing, horn blaring ... now, this is not uncommon to hear the sounds of emergency vehicles when you live in the city, so attempted to drown out the sound with the volume of my television. (note: watching 'robin hood: men in tights' is significantly less enjoyable with the volume just shy of deafening.)

several minutes go by and the raucous is still out there. i hit pause, stand and look out my living room glass doors. i see nothing. i decide that it's about time for a cigarette anyway, so i grab my coat and hat and head out onto the balcony. i notice, off in the distance, the winking red and white lights belonging to the messenger of noise. seconds later the sound ceases and quiet has once again taken resident.

me: oh, guess they found it. ::i think to myself::

shortly after making this assumption, however, the sound started up again, as loud and as shrill as before. it sounds like they're getting closer. uh oh. i lean out over the balcony to check my building to be sure a fire hasn't sprung up beneath or around me. nope, nope ... all clear. i don't smell smoke either. the sound draws nearer and i see the flashing beacons reflecting off windows and vehicles in the parking lot of the apartment complex across the street.

me: now they must have found it. ::i think to myself as the sound dies once more::

sure enough, however, no sooner do i think these words when the sound, once again, cuts through the night. shortly after, i see the nose of the firetruck peek around the corner of the building that had previously been blocking my view. there is a large fire engine with a smaller 'fire chief' truck trailing behind and they are both moving very slowly through the parking lot.

me: jesus christ ... are they lost? ::i think in bewilderment, silently praying that should i ever need them, they will be much, much faster with their response time::

i watch as they leave the parking lot across the street, cross through the intersection, and make their way into my very own parking lot. i begin frantically peering around to see if my building is on fire again. i start forming an escape plan in my head ... do i jump if i can't get out? so what if i break my legs, at least i'll be alive. should i take anything with me? i really do like those shoes ... and that jacket ... oooh, what do i do??

as i poise to dart back inside and begin gathering some of my belongings, the fire engine--the noise the loudest it could possibly be ... my ears ringing ... is that blood i feel dripping down my neck?--sweeps past my apartment followed closely by the smaller vehicle.

to what do my wondering eyes should appear, but a jolly old elf, sitting on a lawn chair in the back of a fire department pick-up truck, waving. are you fucking kidding me? isn't it a little early to make your rounds, you fat man in red? all that noise--me thinking the world is ending--for a fat guy in a suit. dundalk frightens me. i guess this is quite common, however, as i was regaling some of co-workers with this story and before i could get to the punch-line, they were nodding and smiling and laughing at my discomfort.

as santa rode by, he waved, i waved back. i hope i finally get that shiny new bike i asked for when i was 7 ... stingy old man.