I had to share this with someone.
Last Saturday night we had a big event for work and I stayed up late helping tear everything down and helping my boss celebrate a fantastic fundraiser. I had to get up at 8 the next morning to do Race for the Cure. When I went to bed, I was already a little cranky about not being able to get a good night’s sleep.
A little before 7 AM, I heard a very loud car alarm going off somewhere outside my window. It wasn’t one of those Dane Cook car alarms that runs through all the options, though. It just did the first two sounds. (The ones that correspond with “HELLOOOO? I’M A CARRRRR?”) Over. And over. And over.
I did not punch a baby. But after about 5 minutes, I was starting to go a little crazy. And I was pissed off that I was awake almost a full hour before my alarm was supposed to go off. So I got out of bed to look out the window at what car it was, maybe even give the owner or anyone outside a dirty look from the 6th floor window.
And I noticed a funny thing when I got out of bed – the alarm wasn’t coming from outside my window. It was coming from the hallway of my apartment building.
So, of course, I quickly put on a sweatshirt, grabbed my purse and cell phone, and ran down all 6 flights of stairs.* It smelled pretty bad in the stairwell, but when is that even noteworthy? When I got outside I saw a bunch of my fellow tenants standing across the street; all of the twenty-somethings in their pajamas with angry looks on their faces; all of the elderly folks fully dressed, coiffed, and gossiping amongst themselves. There were two fire trucks near the building and the firemen had taped off a rather large area. They were just casually wandering around near the entrance to our building in their suits and boots that weigh hundreds of pounds, making it quite clear that they were bored.
I walked up to a couple of sweet white-haired old ladies and asked them what happened. “There was a gas leak,” one of them replied. “Didn’t you smell it? It smelled awful!”
Lady, I’m running on about 5 hours of sleep. I’m not firing on all cylinders. I’m not even opening my eyes all the way ’cause it kinda hurts. I didn’t think about why the stairwell that always smells funny smelled a different kind of funny this morning.
Then I realized that the firemen were walking in and out of the door to the hot dog place on the first floor of our building (which I will call WonderDog), and the door was shut. They had broken the giant plate of glass in the door to get in and were now stepping on the glass shards on the ground as they shuffled in and out with their heavy boots. Crunch. Crunch.
After about ten minutes, the firemen let us back in the building. I went upstairs, changed into different sweats and a different t-shirt, and left for Race for the Cure.
Fast forward – Monday evening. I check the mail when I get home from work, just like every other day, and there’s a sign posted above the mailboxes from the owner of WonderDog, apologizing for Sunday’s alarm. It turns out the pilot light in their water heater went out, which made everything smell like natural gas (only a moron wouldn’t have noticed). To make it up to us, WonderDog would allow all of the building residents to EAT FOR FREE for the rest of September. (Keep in mind, this was last Sunday, so there were still quite a few days left in September.)
Sunday, my “roommate” Amanda and I went to WonderDog and got free beers and dogs. And damn, were they amazing.
* I actually also threw on my pedometer. I haven’t blogged about this yet, but we’re having a competition at work wherein everyone wears a pedometer for 100 days and the person with the most steps logged at the end wins a prize. I’m losing terribly, so I try to have my pedometer on every single second possible. I needed all the steps I could get on Sunday morning. One could even say I was more worried about getting those steps than potentially saving my own life.