It is always thrilling when one is spending a late evening in the studio, and suddenly a number of fire trucks pull up in front of one's building, sirens wailing, and hordes of firemen come pouring into the street, and storming onto one's roof.
It is even more thrilling when a series of loud thumps and scrapings herald the arrival of a handsome young fireman, and a great deal of mysterious fire-fighting gear, through the skylight and down the ladder into one's very own stairwell, which, contrary to NYC fire codes, is stacked floor to ceiling with one's very own artwork. Plus miscellaneous packing cases, flower pots and bodywork table.
It is somewhat less thrilling to contemplate the possible long-term consequences of this intrusion, extending to fire-hazard citations, awkward conversations with one's landlord, and serious punitive damages, ranging from the cost of storage-space rental to the cost of eviction. An actual fire would be somewhat of a relief in comparison.
The lovely young fireman declared, casually, "Really nice artwork."
Pretty Lady thanked him, and apologized tremulously for the narrowness of the hallway thereof.
"Oh, it's New York City. Space is at a premium. I understand," said this adorable fireman, and departed, bearing his fifty pounds of thankfully unnecessary gear.
Let us now say a prayer of blessing and thanksgiving for firepersons everywhere, unflinching and fearless and oh-so-kind and generous in their line of duty.
Monday, January 29, 2007
My, my, my
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8 comments:
Glad to hear you, your artwork and other miscellaneous belongings were spared from any possible fiery consequence.
My town, for various reasons, I guess, is full of professional firemen and policemen. I appreciate them. They're all really great people.
Oh, YUM!
er...Where was the fire?
K, there wasn't one. I don't know, I guess someone on our block gets a kick out of phoning in false alarms or something. I can see why they'd want to. That was one sexy fellow. Yum, indeed.
Ouch, the missed opportunity there for "I never believed these stories were true until late one night I was working in my studio when this strapping young fireman lowered himself into my stairwell looking for a fire..."
LOL
Crom
Yes, Crom, it just goes to show you that Paranoia can cause one to be blind to Opportunity. I was entirely focussed on the fire-hazard citation issue, and never considered other possibilities. How very feminine of me.
No, you misunderstand.
I am not suggesting that you should act on impulse and indiscriminately shag anyone who happens to drop through your skylight. I was not suggesting that at all.
It was a veiled reference to an earlier post where the topic was the difference between the ideal fantasy for men (love in an elevator) vs. the feminine ideal which usually contains more detail than simple friction.
If I had had a good-looking female firefighter drop through my ceiling my reaction would be more like "Thanks God!" than worrying about a fire, or fire codes. My writeup of that event would have been more along the angle of the cliche of the letters to Penthouse, despite it's decidedly tame conclusion.
It was a Mamet-esque Bernie Litko reaction on my part, and should not be construed as a swipe at your virtue.
Crom
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