Fireman's Guilt

So everything's fine. Isabel's left NC, and we're all fine. I think that the ice storm that NC had last winter (which was BAD) really got rid of all the weak trees. We had almost no limbs or trees knocked down. Also, since everyone was so well-prepared, everyone stayed home! We were actually kinda bored at the fire station -- we only had three calls all day -- and that brings me to a new emotion I've been feeling lately -- fireman's guilt.

This is the feeling of having busted your ass training and preparing for helping people when bad stuff happens, and then.... no bad stuff happens. I'm sitting at the firehouse with about a dozen other volunteers, just waiting for a call. You goof off for a bit, and then you get bored. And then you think, "God, I wish we'd get a call." Whoa, hang on a minute there, Tex... a call, you say? Wouldn't that mean that someone was hurt, or in danger of being hurt? "Oh shit, I can't believe I just wished that..." And that, my friends, is fireman's guilt. Oh well, I guess you get over it.

We only had three calls, and I was on the first truck out on the first two. The first two were both nothing, a limb lying on a power line and then a faulty fire alarm. We can't do anything about fallen power lines. Contrary to popular belief -- it's not a firefighter's job to deal with fallen lines. We don't have the training or the equipment, or really the authority to deal with them. We can make sure they're not fire hazards, and then we wave goodbye and roll away in our big red trucks. For faulty fire alarms, well, we make real sure there's not really a fire, and then we... well, wave goodbye and roll away in our big red trucks.

The last call was much more, uh, fun. (Hear that fireman's guilt... I'm getting used to it. Before long I'll be shamelessly hoping for mass disasters... okay, maybe not.) I was at a friend's house, a fellow firefighter and colleague, eating dinner. We had just finished eating when our pagers went off. We rode up to the fire station, not quite adrenaline pumping, but feeling good, and hopped on a truck. We were the last truck out, but one of the first to actually find the place. (Sometimes you spend as much time finding the situation as you do fixing it.) Then we cut down some trees that had fallen on a propane tank. Nothing terribly heroic, but fun all the same. That propane tank could have busted open though, and then we could have been in trouble.

Anyway, I had a good time, and I'm tired. Sippin' on my beer, gonna jump in the shower, and then I'm gonna put my draggin' ass to bed.... 'night all.