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Not the write wake up call

Phyllis Humby's picture
Wed, 07/02/2014 - 08:53 -- Phyllis Humby

Spent the weekend in a downtown Toronto hotel. Hadn’t done that for a long time. The first night I was there, I realized that some things never change. Nope. It was right around midnight when the fire alarm started ringing. Oh crap. Yes, I actually said that out loud to no one. I hesitated. After all I’ve been through this before. Should I get up?

The intercom system was telling everyone there was a problem on the twelfth floor. Problem? Could we be more specific here?? I was on the tenth floor. Not too worried. Repeatedly the announcement instructed us to stand by. Okay, so that means stay in your room. The shrill alarm continued and the message recurred every few seconds.
I had a balcony outside my room. Extremely large. It must have gone around to the next room. I was on a corner. When I first checked in, I wondered about safety. If the people in the next room were villainous, they could easily lurk around the glass door. It’s not likely, but still… that’s the way my mind works.

I also believe in fate. There’s a fire alarm and I have a balcony. First time ever that I have a balcony to my room in downtown Toronto. I pictured myself teetering on the railing before sailing from the tenth floor and landing on one of those trampoline thingies. It would probably be a good idea to change out of my nightgown.

First, I peeked out in the hall and saw no one. Then I heard the noise. A stampede going down the stairway. I propped my room door open and investigated. Yep, people were running down the stairs. I’m okay with that as long as I don’t have to walk back up the stairs. I decided to join them.

Returning to my room, I matched up a pair of black pants with a melon coloured sweater set. I chose flats over sandals and looked for my heather shimmer lipstick in my makeup case before realizing it was in my purse. I rooted to the bottom for it.

I didn’t comb my hair but then I normally don’t. Grabbing my cell phone, I swung my purse over my shoulder and glanced at the rest of my stuff.  Nothing that couldn’t be replaced. I headed for the stairway and joined some small-statured men who were speaking rapidly in a language I didn’t understand. I kept pace one level to the next until I reached the ground floor and exited the building.

It was a balmy evening. Quite nice, actually. I chatted with some people I had met that day, but it appeared that the majority of guests had remained in their rooms. I pulled out my cell phone and snapped some pictures of the fire truck with the flashing red lights. Why not, everyone else was. Also, I couldn’t resist a couple good shots of the daredevil firefighters. Oxygen tanks on their backs, helmets at a jaunty angle, straps dangling.

I did not take any pictures of people in sleepwear. There was an older woman, at least my age, in a yellow satin two-piece chemise. A shorty set. Really, now. I wonder where she put the key to her room?

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