Fire

I usually complain to the firefighters I know that they drive way too damn fast, especially when the fire is near the station. But, on Saturday they could have been sitting in the parking lot of this scene and it still would have been big. It helps that this fire was only a few blocks south of the office.

Here I am clocking out on this mellow Saturday (yes, I have a time card) and tones come over the scanner. All I can think about is my comfy bed on what is my Friday night. Dispatch says the old, abandoned flour mill is completely engulfed in flames. Yeah right, completely? I think not. I head out the door, just going to swing by on my way home. I smell smoke, but see no flames. I head down the hill, around the corner and park next to a police car. By this time, the fire is roaring. The first fire truck is on scene, getting set up. I call the office to tell them to scratch main story on the front page, this is huge.

After a couple hours, a few thousand gallons of water, a pair of muddy shoes, frozen pant legs and 477 frames, I walk back to the office. All that water has made a bog where my truck is parked, hoses run wild and I am forced to abandon my office on wheels.

In the end it was amazing and the job done by the departments and our staff was outstanding. The day after we were talking in the office and concluded this was the sort of fire that only happens once a decade. And that's probably because firefighters drive way too damn fast.

Check out this slideshow if you have a couple minutes.