Fire Alarms

I had just returned from class and sat down to write this blog when the fire alarm went off.

Again.

For the third time in the past fourteen hours.

Last night, I had just stepped into the shower when the fire alarm went off. I madly dashed around my room stark naked trying to find clothes and hoping that my RAs wouldn't walk in to make sure I was evacuating.

We were finally let back in, I took a shower and fell asleep. At four am, the blaring erupted again. Frustrated and exhausted, I dragged myself downstairs with the rest of the herd and hoped that no one noticed how revealing my drawstring shorts were with no underwear on.

In my lifetime, I've had some pretty interesting experiences with fire alarms. Last winter, the fire alarm went off five times in one day. As soon as everyone had piled back in, taken off their coats and scarves, the alarm began again. And again. And again. And again.

In high school, our fire alarm had a knack for going off anytime the theatre department hosted the One Act Play competition. Without fail, as soon as the visiting schools had put on their costumes (often Victorian formal wear or togas), the alarm would go off.

The fire alarm went off on the very first day of sixth grade because it was a new building and there was some sort of malfunction with the ovens. That particular instance was recorded in several newspapers who had been on campus reporting the opening of the school's new building.

And then early elementary school was rife with instances of "fire drills," which were actually evacuations due to gas leaks.

However, my very favorite fire alarm moment comes from my sojourn at Cambridge University. One night, around two am, we had just returned from a day trip to London. A few of my friends and I were on our way back from doing laundry in the next building over when we heard the fire alarm go off. We stood outside the building and watched hoardes of screaming teenage girls run out of the building --- the majority of them dripping wet and wrapped in towels.

My roommate, a hyperactive "goth" (I don't really know how those properly go together), found me on the lawn and told me her account of what she had been doing when the alarm went off. Apparently, she -for what reason, I'll never know- had been jumping on my bed when the fire alarm went off and, for one wild moment, had thought it was the police coming for her because she wasn't supposed to be jumping on my bed.

We all had a good laugh at this and soon the Porters were letting us back inside (now that I look back on this, I don't ever remember seeing any firemen). My roommate and I got stopped as we filed inside with the others. One of the Porters escorted us into our room where my bed had been turned on its side. Behind the place where my bed had been was some sort of square electrical thing. The Porter told us that it was very sensitive and that hitting it was what set off the fire alarm.

Crazily enough, my roommate had indeed set off the fire alarm by jumping on my bed.

Now if only the problem with the alarm in Mabee could be solved so simply. I fully expect that alarm to go off as soon as I lie down for a nap.