It was somewhere in the wee hours of the morning. The fire alarm went off. It took me a while to realize what was going on (it always does). I distinctly remember trying to lazily find pants and shoes rather than exiting the building–as one should do during a fire.
There were only three of us in the apartment that night and we stood outside with the rest of 1347 looking back at the building with the knowledge that it had been a false alarm. There just happened to be a fire station next door to the complex, but about seven minutes after the alarm had begun a firetruck strolled in from campus, obviously not in any sort of hurry. In fact, I don’t even recall any sirens.
Eventually we went and sat in Lynn’s car rather than in the open air. It took a number of minutes for the building to be given the all-clear. Mimicking the fire-men’s efforts we rolled out of the car long after everyone else had gone back into their apartments. When we reached the second landing on our ascent to our apartment a college-dude stepped out of his place and stood only a few feet in front of us. He was shirtless. The obvious attire required when surveying the non-fire. I held in my giggles. I looked at Lynn who was doing the same. When we reached the third floor we burst into laughter at the complete and total awkwardness that guy had created. “Oh,” Lynn said, in a timid quasar-voice, “so there’s where the fire is!”