Fire, Fire Everywhere, but Not Enough to Drink
I found out that last night some new york citizen stole one of the bells from our local firehouse that are meant to warn people on the street that the fire truck is just about to tear out of there. It apparently made too much noise for him. I'm awestruck at the arrogance of someone being inconvenienced by the noise created when a truck goes out full of people who are not only willing, but dedicated, to putting their lives on the line for others.
September 11 was rife with those people. When a fireman goes to a call, they don't use the elevators that people, in their evacuation, find so inconveniently not in service. They go up the five, the ten, the thirty seven flights of stairs - in full gear, with the heavy tools that they may need. They don't blink. They get out of breath, their calves burn, their hearts are pounding but they still press on.
The ones in the World Trade Center had a billion stairs to get up, in our civilian estimation. Some of them HAD to know it was futile, but most fireman live for one thing alone: if I get one person, JUST one person out, my life was worth it. That is what each fireman that I know thinks. I'm not capable of that. But they are. And, of course, they get paid for it. And they also PAY for it.
Firemen cry. And when they cry, it makes everything else seem insignificant. Because they're not only crying for their brothers and friends that have died not only for other people, but because of bureaucratic snafus, incompetent landlords, and people just generally fucking up. It's the pointless deaths that really hurt. The ones that should have been avoidable.
But what it really comes down to is that the basic job of a fireman is to risk their life to save someone. Yet, every time I turn around, those same nameless people are criticizing and undercutting the fire department. I only hope, like I hope the people who walk out of stores in front of you and stop dead in their tracks don't drive, that these same people are very, very conscious of their fire safety.
Wait, who'm I kidding. I hope they burn. In hell. Especially bell stealing guy. It's fucking city property. ILLEGAL. Jackass.
September 11 was rife with those people. When a fireman goes to a call, they don't use the elevators that people, in their evacuation, find so inconveniently not in service. They go up the five, the ten, the thirty seven flights of stairs - in full gear, with the heavy tools that they may need. They don't blink. They get out of breath, their calves burn, their hearts are pounding but they still press on.
The ones in the World Trade Center had a billion stairs to get up, in our civilian estimation. Some of them HAD to know it was futile, but most fireman live for one thing alone: if I get one person, JUST one person out, my life was worth it. That is what each fireman that I know thinks. I'm not capable of that. But they are. And, of course, they get paid for it. And they also PAY for it.
Firemen cry. And when they cry, it makes everything else seem insignificant. Because they're not only crying for their brothers and friends that have died not only for other people, but because of bureaucratic snafus, incompetent landlords, and people just generally fucking up. It's the pointless deaths that really hurt. The ones that should have been avoidable.
But what it really comes down to is that the basic job of a fireman is to risk their life to save someone. Yet, every time I turn around, those same nameless people are criticizing and undercutting the fire department. I only hope, like I hope the people who walk out of stores in front of you and stop dead in their tracks don't drive, that these same people are very, very conscious of their fire safety.
Wait, who'm I kidding. I hope they burn. In hell. Especially bell stealing guy. It's fucking city property. ILLEGAL. Jackass.
posted by Brenda at 12:48 AM
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