We were having one of those crazy Saturday night tours, the ones so many of us are lucky enough to encounter from time to time. Early in the evening, we were taking in a run for a fire in a self-service laundry, and it sounded good, as the dispatcher informed us he was receiving more calls. It turned out to be only a small lint fire in the vent duct behind the machines. The hardest part was gaining access into the narrow closet-like space behind the machines to extinguish the fire with the “can.” Then we took in a few more runs, and at about 0415 hours we had a van on fire. The cab was well involved on arrival; it took a little while to knock it down and overhaul.
At about 0520 hours, most of us were trying to grab a nap. The bells went off a few more times in the next two hours for the engine company to take in some medical calls. So the nap and rest patterns for everyone in the firehouse were not going so well. At about 0730 hours, the bells went off again, and the housewatch firefighter used the intercom to inform us that we were all first due for a phone alarm for a fire on the sixth floor.
On the stairs going down to the apparatus floor, I figured that this could be a “food on the stove” or it could be a job caused by a party reveler from the night before. Then the intercom blared out the address and street name. Most of us knew by the location that the street was narrow and had a steep hill, which often had caused us apparatus positioning problems in the past. As the firefighters stopped traffic in the street, the chief let us know over the portable radio that the dispatcher advised he was receiving numerous phone calls and filling the assignment out.
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