We had settled in yesterday evening to watch a family movie, when I saw that my neighbor across the street was calling. She usually texts, and it’s almost always about store runs or gardening chit-chat, and it’s never as late as 8:30 PM.
“Hey, so, the street lamp in front of your house is smoking.”
I almost answered, “Well, that’s a terrible habit.” But, seriously, “What? Really?”
We rushed out front and saw that, indeed, the lamp was smoking. The plastic globe had a hole in it, and a bird (most likely a robin) had taken the opportunity to build a nest inside. I guess it was pretty hot in there, and the nest acted as ideal kindling. The bird had already vacated, and we could only hope she didn’t leave any eggs behind.
Our neighbor was on hold with the non-emergency line, but once the smoke reached a new level of intensity, he called 911. He was put on hold again and, after about a minute, was able to speak to someone and explain the situation. The dispatcher said the fire department would be on their way.
About 10 seconds later, flames started shooting out, and to our great relief, a fire truck rounded the corner about five seconds after that.
I was a little disappointed that they didn’t have the siren and flashing lights going. I expected a flurry of activity and lighting-quick speed in unfurling the hoses, firefighters in full suits dropping from the sides, just like on TV.
Instead, they nonchalantly stepped down from the truck, gazed up at the flames, and casually fetched the hoses. I was silently screaming, “Look at those flames! They’re about two inches from that tree, which brushes up against our tree, which hangs over our entire house!”
Maybe they were taking a cautious approach because it was an electrical fire? Maybe they see this every day?
Finally, they directed a powerful stream of water up at flames and made short work of the whole ordeal.
I had called the kids out to see the production, and after a few mildly raised eyebrows and bored yawns, the headed inside. Really?
Once the firefighters were certain the fire was out and the current was off, they began furling up the three hoses. That was pretty cool: they stretched them down the street and then rolled them up in unison; they looked like circus performers.
I ducked my head in the front door and called, “Hey, kids! They’re rolling up the hoses!”
I got an uninterested, “Okay, Mom.”
My Corner of the Village 