Engine Engine Number Nine

Engine Engine Number Nine

On Sunday my phone rang at 3 in the afternoon. I had been putzing around the house because Geo declared it his official day of rest ("And on the seventh day...") Audrey was on the other line, sounding depressed as hell. She was stranded at her "friend's" house about 45 minutes away, because her car had been towed while she was at a diner in the city.

So we bundled up the girls and packed into the car, for an impromptu trip up north. We agreed to pick her up at her "friend's" firehouse. They got a call about a minute before we got there so when I walked in, it was completely empty. By law they had to kick Aud out when they left, but of course she blocks the side door open and we sneak back in. We head into the kitchen because Aud says they have numerous gourmet offerings. I spy her plate on the counter and help myself to the best stuffed shells in the history of stuffed shells. They're filled with mozarella and ricotta, plus red bell peppers and onions. Not to mention the meatballs and marinara and probably a thousand different spices I couldn't name if my life depended on it. Their kitchen was fully loaded, even had jars of spices on one wall by the stove. And not those dinky jars of paprika you buy at the grocery store either. They had the big spice jars they sell at Costco. I loaded up her plate with more and toss it back into the microwave.

All of a sudden, we hear a guy's voice and look at each other like deer caught in headlights. He walks in but it turns out he was one of the guys Aud chilled with in Iceland, otherwise we would have gotten some people in trouble. I inhale the pasta as Aud chit-chats with the guy about his trip to Mexico. Of course, I take a moment away from the trough to ask what Aud would do in Mexico since she doesn't bang prostitutes. Aud asked the guy (who was their fire investigator) to give us a tour of the forbidden upstairs and he agrees, so I shove the last of the pasta in my mouth and hurry after them. We got to see the chief's quarters, the fire investigator offices, the communal bedroom, the communal bathroom, the porn downloading room and the random room for questionable purposes, because the only thing in it was some junk and an EZ-chair.

We tripped out over the old-style fire poles. They had two of them, one off the bedroom that I thought was a closet, and one in the communal bathroom. Yeah, if I ever slide down one of their poles (the actual ones, not those sick innuendos you all are thinking) it won't be that one. They're actually supposed to have a third pole but it's missing. The closet it was in is still there though, right across from the Questionable Purpose Room aka the Room of Requirement. It's pretty freaky, you open this door thinking you're going to be rummaging through a closet and all of a sudden there's a huge hole in the floor and you're looking about 15 feet down (or more).

We heard the firemen coming back from their call so we hightailed it off the Forbidden Second Floor and tried to look innocent. Aud and I looked at each other and jokingly straightened our clothes but it was a joke we only shared with each other. After that whole fire groupie scandal in Staten Island, we figured that kind of joke might not be appreciated.

When Aud's friend Steve came out of the rig, she told him that we didn't leave because I wanted to see him slide down the pole. So he climbs upstairs, still in his... trousers (??) okay gear we'll call it, and then a few seconds later comes sliding down the pole. We cheered like it was the best thing ever. Those poles kind of are the best thing ever though. When I build my house I want a few in there. Definitely one from the bedroom to the kitchen. And maybe one from the dining room to the bathroom. Oh and one from the library to The Batcave.

Some of the guys on-duty came up and started talking to us. One of them asked what it was that brought us to the firehouse. I told them I came by because I had a question about my smoke alarm, specifically, whether or not it was ample protection for the barbeque I was throwing in my living room. For future reference, firemen don't really see the subtle humor behind fire jokes. Reminded me of that one episode of Friends when Phoebe was dating the fireman who writes poetry. "Fire safety is NOT a laughing matter."

Speaking of not a laughing matter, I mentioned my kids to one of the firemen and he asked where they were. I said they were in the car and he looked appalled. He was like "You left your kids out in the car alone??" I was like "Yeah, it's okay though because I left their bottles in reaching distance." He didn't laugh so I figure he thought I was serious and took pity on him by reassuring that I had actually left my children AND my husband sleeping in the locked car. After some further minutes of fun chit-chat about some guy's dream where he's going down on Alyssa Milano and she turns into Bea Arthur, we headed out of there. But not before Aud scored a couple Junior Firefighter stickers and a coloring book that you're supposed to keep refridgerated from her "friend." No "stickers" is not a euphemism for anything.