So last night, whilst writing my post, I may have saved some lives. Now, I know your sitting there thinking, “bullocks,” but stuff went down.
There I was trying to write my post, and my mother decided to take my daughter to play on the porch. Cool, now I was free to write something deep without sticky hands grabbing each part involve in the act of typing. Less than a minute later, my mother called my name. Now this call was not an average call; it sounded more like a swallowed scream. I didn’t think it was my daughter, because I have unfortunately heard my mother scream for me multiple times in a medical emergency, and it’s wa stone I’d never heard before. I could hear the fear in the soft yell…
So, without hesitation, I jumped up and ran out to the porch. My mother turned towards the street and let out a breathy “fire.” I bent down to see it, and spotted the fire in the neighbors’ trash can across the street. Unfortunately, it’s flush to to house, and I know that there is no more than a minute or two before the house catches.
At this point, my mother begins to speak again, but I’m already sprinting across the street heading for their door. Luck would have it, the whole family is outside. So in a loud authoritative tone I say (and no I just spoke loudly and didn’t shout), “your barrel is on fire; you need to go get your hose NOW.” So this is all mid run through the street so I veer towards the fire and begin to figure the best angle to grab the melting plastic and flames. One of the young adults heard me say to myself “need to move the barrel,” and grabs it by the melting side and starts to drag it.
So then I have to stop her as she goes to put it against her neighbors house. Seriously? But she’s panicky. She stops and puts her hand into the fire; stopped that too. Seriously WTH? So over my shoulder I see a small hose poke over the fence. The other young adult cries that it can’t go father, so I tell her turn it on and I will take care of it. Little did they know, I have mad spray skills, lethal accuracy with only a well placed thumb (they have no nozzle). A small fine trickle come out of the hose… I need more water.
I shout to the back that I need more and push the hose back to help prevent kinks. As this is going on, the father comes out and dumps a small pot of water on it. This does nothing, but thankfully the hose is picking up speed. Now, I am absolutely aware that I have arranged my hand so that I will spray the girl that stuck her hand into the fire and was at that moment tilting the flaming barrel into the bushes. Seriously?! So I tell her to back away and again return the barrel to the spot I placed it before with my free hand. Finally, and gratifyingly, the water come out. I spray my helper for a fraction of a second before spraying down the fire.
I spent the next 10 minutes making sure that every small flame is out and all the embers are cool. I take this time to hose all the other fireworks (the son’s fireworks are high end and beautiful for all the neighborhood to watch) so they didn’t catch too. I take a moment to suggest they fill a kiddie pool next year and dunk the used fireworks so that doesn’t happen again (I hose mine after use for just this reason).
Luck was on their side, as my mother saw the danger and I saved their home. I have this incredibly useful skill to be the cool cucumber in dire situations. My level headed commands and fearlessness saved them from a horrible catastrophe. Maybe it’s the 30 minute class I had on how to put out fires in the Navy, or maybe it’s a beautiful character trait that kept the situation in check. Either way, it was definitely a good night.
(and yes, for my dear followers, this was my second moment of fire fighting skills: 7-14-14 )