Oh man, last night was not how I wanted to kick-off our 4-day weekend. Thankful that God was watching over us. Three things happened: 1) Oven fire 2) Lady takes a life threatening fall 3) Who's to clean up the blood?
Part 1:
I was beyond excited to come back home after spending four days in DC for work (which was good, just ready to be back). My flight was delayed over two hours due to weather conditions...and we were stuck on the plane. Fun times. We finally land in NYC around 5PM, I catch a cab and come home. Richard was working late trying to wrap up things before the long weekend. So, I unload all of our photo albums (still in a box) and place everything in the storage area above the cabinets/stove. Remember, our apartment is tiny...so storage is everywhere! Around 8:30PM, I decide to cook dinner before Richard gets home. I thaw the chicken (remember the chicken, there is more on that later) and preheat the oven. Just before I put the chicken in the oven, our fire alarm goes off...which is really nothing new because it happens often with our tiny kitchen next to the alarm. I fan the alarm and open the oven. Our oven is brand new - I see nothing. Our fire alarm goes off again and this time black smoke is starting to come from the oven. I open the oven again and still nothing. Now, our stove is different than the stoves we are used to in Texas. It's open-flame and tiny. So, I decide to open the storage area under the stove....open flames are licking upwards. I'm definitely alarmed, but also thinking - is there an open flame at the bottom too? I immediately call Richard with this question (I know what you are thinking, I should have called 911 first. Yes, you are right. Remember, you brain works a little different in distress.). He confirms there should not be a flame on the bottom of the oven and agrees that I need to call 911. I immediately dial 911, I am trying to control my voice so that they can understand. As most of you know, when I am mad, sad, scared or panicked, I cry. So I am holding back tears and clearly stating our address and emergency over and over to the 911 operator. New York is a little different (as we all know...), and the operator has to 3-way a local operator in on the call. So I repeat my plea twice. At this point, black smoke is really starting to fill our tiny 450 square foot apartment. I am balancing the phone with the 911 operator, while trying to put the leashes on the dogs and get in the hallway, knocking on our neighbors doors and begging the 911 operator to give me an ETA of the firefighters (which I was NOT told, and they were rude about me asking). After what seemed like forever (it was actually only 3 minutes, I learned from my phone history), I heard sirens. I ran downstairs...or at least started to and Pickle and Sundae would not budge. They are trained to not go down the stairs for safety reasons. So I grab both dogs, run down three flights of stairs, across the building to greet 10 firefighters at the front door. They take over our building....3 head to our apartment, 3 go up the fire escape, 2 go up the other stairs in the building and 2 direct from outside. I am in full meltdown mode at this point...standing at the bottom of the stairs with Pickle and Sundae. Neighbors start coming out and they were so nice and helpful. During this time, Richard has abandoned everything he was doing at work, flagged down a taxi and anxiously headed home...not knowing what to expect. By the grace of God, the fire was quickly put out. We only received superficial damage (mainly from the smoke and fumes). Our building maintenance guy helped me start cleaning up the apartment (it was a mess). He walked in the apartment with me and I just stood there...not knowing what to do. About 2 minutes later Richard arrives and we continue to clean and calm down. Everyone was OK.
Then....
Part 2:
We hear a loud noise. A noise so loud that we think it is our A/C unit (remember, no central A/C in NYC), falling from our window due to the fire. We run from one side to the apartment to the other (so, 2 seconds...lol)...and see nothing. I head to our stairwell and look down to see a lady's body mangled on the floor and two neighbors standing by calling 911. I run down there, shortly followed by Richard. She obviously took a very hard fall down the stairs. We don't move her due to possible neck/back injuries and we are trying to keep her conscious. Her eyes are rolling around and it is pretty scary. Paramedics arrive shortly and begin to put a neck brace on her (and then we see blood has started pooling around her neck). She then comes to and starts screaming and cussing at the paramedics and refusing help. At this point, we realize she is very, very intoxicated. It is then realized by the paramedics that she is a nurse. So, they leave with her....and leave the blood behind telling all of us to call the apartment management (it's about 9:30PM at this point).
Remember, the chicken that was originally thawing? Yeah... while Richard and I are downstairs, little Miss Sundae gets loose and eats all THREE pieces of raw chicken. I walked in just in time to find her licking her lips and looking remorseful. Wonderful.
And...
Part 3:
Our neighbor calls the apartment after hours number, no answer. Another neighbor tracks down the night security guy. He says "I'm not cleaning that up, I don't know what is in her blood". Great! It now looks like a murder scene in our apartment building - not to mention how unsanitary and unsafe this pool of blood is on the floor. We stay around for a little while waiting on whoever the security guy said he was going to contact. Which apparently was no one. So I leave a note, so no one else comes home and freaks out and calls 911 again. I am pretty sure the guy is getting fired.
9AM this morning: I hear our building staff confused in the stairwell. I explain last night's events...their eyes look like they are going to pop out of their heads. They had received a very brief report of last night's event from the security guard, but not many details.
Blood is cleaned up. New oven is on it's way. Manager calls us to talk about everything. Crazy, right?
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