The Day I was Rescued by Firemen

Here is my adventure du jour:

The way my apartment is set up, you walk up the main stairs in the building and down a hallway to my front door. To get to my porch, you have to walk through the apartment, through my bedroom, out the back door — which leads out to the back stairs — then to our private porch. All these doors have locks. So, the other day I'm sitting out on my porch, having a glass of wine with my dog, and the fire alarm goes off. I rolled my eyes.

Chances are, the building's not actually on fire, and everyone would be standing out front waiting to get back into the building while the firemen come and clear it. Since I’m not technically supposed to have a dog in the apartment, I didn’t think it would go over well if I walked out the front door in front of all those people with Tequila. Plus, if the building was on fire, it’d be dangerous to go through the apartment. So, I decided to take the back stairs… they’ve got to lead somewhere, right?

Wrong. I walked down the sketchy back stairs and came across a rickety old door just below ground level. Looking out the tiny window, I saw nice granite stairs leading up to a patio, but I couldn’t see what was beyond it. The door was unlocked. “Maybe we have a backyard I never knew about?!” I thought to myself, excitedly.

Walking up the stairs, all excitement faded. The backyard, which was entirely fenced in by a 6+ foot wood fence, was overgrown with 4-foot-high weeds. It was quite gross, actually.

But I was out of the building, so I figured I could walk around and get out to the sidewalk somehow. There must be a gate — and there was… a rod iron gate laced in chains and padlocks. I tried to scream and get someone’s attention from the sidewalk (just around the corner of the building), but no one noticed.

I looked up, saw no smoke billowing from the windows, and figured it was safe to walk through the basement. I returned to the door from which I came… only to find the handle was rusted off on the outside.

I was trapped in my backyard…in pajamas, with my dog, and looking like a total idiot.

I could see the flashing lights of the fire truck from the gate, so I figured if I sat on the stairs, one of the firemen would notice me as they clear the building. No fireman came.

Long story short, I eventually called the fire department. As expected, the dispatcher asked: “Is this an emergency?”

“Well,” I said, “it really depends how you look at it. My life is not in danger, but I know there’s a fire truck here on an emergency call.”

Of course, by this point the firemen had already left, so the dispatcher had to ask them to turn around and come get me. I sat by the gate waiting for them, looking pathetic. They came out the backdoor.

“What number are you? We’ll get you back in.” Apparently they thought I was locked out of my unit.

“Oh no. I have my apartment keys… I’m locked out of the building.”

“What do you mean — out of the building?”

“I mean the door back in is broken.”

“What do you mean it’s broken?”

I smiled wickedly. Sure enough, the three firemen who came to rescue me turned around to realize that they too were trapped in my backyard.

They whipped out all their fancy firemen tools and tried to gracefully knock the door down, but it didn’t work. The captain called to see why it was taking so long, and of course they responded: “The situation it totally under control, Cap’n.” Right. Eventually they had another fireman come, walk though the basement, and let the four of us in.


So yes, I was recently rescued by firemen (and they weren’t even hot)… But honestly, who else does this stuff happen to?