And it made me think of some old firemen events in my family, the best one being at my aunt’s apartment:
She lived on the 3rd floor with husband and two kids. Getting home she tried opening the door but someone had gotten home before her and left the key on the door, and from the time it HAD to be my cousin (on his teens),
so she banged and kicked the door and rang the (very loud) doorbell a megazillion times, tried the phone (it was before cellphones were big), then even went to all neighbors upstairs, downstairs and on both sides and banged with them on the walls / ceilings / stomped the floors….
Nothing…
She called my uncle who drove over, them both freaking out at this point thinking the boy tripped on the shower and died or something….
So they called the emergency and here comes this monster fire truck with lights and siren, still nothing….
The firemen go up bringing some equipment to break the door down.
My uncle (a jerk worse-than-Ebenezer-Scrooge I never really liked and whom my aunt eventually divorced) yelled “no way! You know how much that door cost?!!”
The firemen had to then go to the floor above theirs and one of them climbed out the window with a rope around his waist… slowly down until he reached the open window of my aunt’s living room.
And as soon as he jumped in through the window, hit the living room floor with his boots…
My cousin wakes up from what can surely be considered the heaviest. Sleep. EVER. And looks all confused at the firemen “…what?”