I love submarine movies! But at 5 a.m., Sept. 2, ?
Alarm! Alarm! (AH-UOO-GA, AH-UOO-GA) was what I heard. Bright flashes of white light, just like depth charges exploding underwater. The crew must be about their emergency duties. I must go too!
At first, I thought I was dreaming about one of those traumatic scenes in submarine movies when the boat is being attacked by a destroyer from above attempting to sink it.
But, then I realized it was all too real. The sound was that of the building-wide fire alarm system . The bright light was the alarm repeater unit strobe in my bedroom that alerts me. I counted the number of alarm repeats, four-followed-by-two, which told me the problem was on the fourth floor, westside. My apartment is two-east, on the opposite side.
Rub-a-dub-dub, she overfilled the tub! As we all found out later, a woman on the fourth floor was drawing water for a bath. She started filling the tub,when back into her bedrom and FELL ASLEEP! The tub overflowed and leaked through the ceiling, short-circuited the fire alarm, which set it off.
Meanwhile, startled, usurer about what was happening, and unable to find Ted in the dark, strobe-popping room, I stumbled about, trying to remember the sequence for evacuation.
Dress quickly, take your room keys, (and Ted, of course,) drop a pillow, or some cloth outside the door to let the firefighters know that no one is in the apartment, and GET THE HELL OUT!!.
Fortunately, my medications were working well at the time, so, although slow, I was moving toward the door when the city firefighter assigned to the second floor knocked at the door calling my name. He told me it was a water problem on the fourth floor, so I could stay in the apartment until otherwise advised. He was pleased to see that I was ‘ready to go” if an evacuation were called. People with disabilities who live here have an emergency first-responder assigned to them specifically to make sure they reach safety.
