The Wayward Law

1. Fire
2. Fire department

Today, I had the pleasure of being woken up by a familiar kind of individual speaking a relatively unfamiliar language, despite my proficiency in said language. What I realized is that I am not as fluent in Danish through gas mask as I am when speaking to a Dane, who as fate would have it, is not a Danish fireman working a chemical fire. I awoke to see the lights of 5 fire trucks and sound of axes gently banging on my door, requesting my immediate presence there. In typical Danish modesty and understatement, the previously mentioned individuals in gas masks and fireproof jackets told me, “Yeah, there is a little fire on the 3rd floor. Are you alone? Put on this gas mask.” To which I replied, “Ok, yes. Umm…how?” Gas masks and I are strange bedfellows.

Now, for the sake of full disclosure, I must report that when I opened the door to greet my new friends, the Copenhagen Fire Department, their flashlights and gas masks were all that I could see. The rest was a thick, smoky fog. This explained the smoke coming in through the bottom of the door.

I also now know that in the case of a fire, everything you learned from that stupid bear is both worth knowing and at the same time absolutely worthless. You don’t actually feel the door and wonder to self, “Self, is this door hot?” Nor do you go and put them along the bottom of the door. Actually, what Smokey should say in those videos is, “Kids, if there is a fire, you should probably just freak the fuck out.” What do you remember in my situation? Your computer, iPod without headphones (don’t ask; I don’t know), wallet, phone and the first outfit you can find. One thing you do not grab if you are in my position is your set of keys to get you back in to the apartment. If there is a next time, I will forget the iPod but remember the keys. I don’t know what my thought pattern was, but I think it was something along the line of if the apartment is going to burn down, what is the sense in having keys to it?

As if my smoke-induced headache were not enough, now they are chopping up the 3rd floor apartment. Oh, how I love the sound of chainsaws in the morning.