Lather, Rinse, Repeat.....

We had drill this week that I knew was coming down the pike from our disgruntled Chief (if someone's disgruntled, then why isn't "gruntled" a word too?) .

We had a drill two weeks ago with an outdoor live burn that didn't go as hoped. The hydrant tapping process was, for lack of a better word, complete and utter chaos. As our chief stated at the end of the training drill..."If this had been an actual fire, we'd be doing nothing but raking up ashes, and I'd be turning in my white helmet out of sheer embarrassment." Yowch. The truth hurts sometimes.

We had complete communication breakdown, newbies running around with their heads up their asses (yours truly included in that mix) and line officers throwing their hands up in the air out of sheer frustration. Not the most effective night of training, but I didn't complain because I got to play with the hose and don my air pack, which I don't get to do much of as a probie.

I walked into the station house expecting the usual 15 minutes of jovial milling around before we got down to business.Uh-uh. Not this time.Chief glanced at me as I walked in and said "Get your gear on, we don't have time for social niceties tonight. You're on 3511 with Ron, Carl and Randy(all the other probies except Ron's wife Amy, who's recovering from surgery). Dick's driving (Dick is the President), Bill (Captain 1) is running ops off-rig, and Chris (Captain 2) is riding shotgun. We have a lot to do tonight so step on it"Yikes. I didn't dare ask him what we were doing, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it might have something to do with drilling on hydrants.

I geared up (it was noticeably quiet in the apparatus bay) and got on the Pierce (thanks to Jim Brunelle for explaining not only what I was riding on, but the differences between that one and the other equipment we have---hoo-boy do I have a lot to learn about apparatus) in my assigned Probie jump seat.Dick announced the drill; we have a huge circular driveway in and out of our house, with two hydrants in the back separated by about 300 feet. We were going to have our first and second due engines out, and we were going to practice tapping hydrants and pulling and throwing ladders until we had it down.We had one "run-through" with everyone off the truck while the procedure was demonstrated and explained, and then it was go time.

Evolution number 1 had me and Chris working in tandem on the hydrant, with Ron hooking the hose to the engine, and Carl and Randy throwing the ladder up on the shed and practicing hauling the K-12 saw up with a rope. The engine stopped and in my adrenaline fueled haste I almost did a face plant getting out, but managed to pull it back in time before I hit the pavement face-first. Bill, who was standing outside waiting for us, looked at me, did an almost imperceptable eye roll, and then barked out "Move it...time IS a factor"....I jumped up on the back (thankfully having remembered to grab the bag of hydrant tools) grabbed the nozzle and hauled ass back to the hydrant with Chris on my heels. Screw up number one was almost forgetting to wrap the hose. Screw up number two was making plans to tap the WRONG side of the hydrant first, but Chris was talking quietly at me the entire time giving me verbal cues to forestall any more eff-ups. Meanwhile Bill is borderline screeching at me to "move it!!"

I got the hydrant tapped and looked at Dick for the signal to start the flow, but that night was a dry drill, we weren't going to charge the lines.Bill then yelled out "Too slow, everyone was WAY too slow, we're doing it again. Repack the hose and let's go."We repack the hose bed and jump back on the engine. NO ONE is talking at this point, except to discuss who was going to be doing what on the next round.Six rounds later and I'm sweating rivers. My arms are tired from hauling hose and repacking, and we're not even halfway done.

Bill is a little less aggravated, but not by much.7th round switches things up.....now it's no more team drilling. One off to run the hose to the hydrant, same person then has to run back to the engine and hook up the hose to the truck, then run back to the hydrant to await the signal from Dick. (I never thought I'd be this grateful to see someone's arm go up in a circle over their head)--meanwhile the rest are working on ladder and saw-hauling.So guess who's up on deck first? Yup....moi. I'm breathing like I just ran a 10K, and the entire time I'm bargaining with both God and the Devil in my head to get me through it and not screw it up. What it SOUNDED like in my head was "pant, pant, pant....gottagetthisright...gottagetitdonefast......pleasedon'tletmescrewup.....pant, pant, pant"Off the engine, grab the hose, REMEMBER TO WRAP IT (yay for me!!), give Dick the signal to drive on....remember to unwrap the hose (double yay for me!!) --get the couplers off, hook up the hose on the right side (yay for me count now at three ) and run like I'm being chased by grizzly bears back to get the hose hooked up to the truck.

Did I mention that Bill was about one foot behind me the entire time not saying a word, just watching me intently waiting for me to make a mistake? No? Well, he was and it was intimidating as hell. I'm now breathing like I've climbed Everest and set a world record reaching the summit, and "sweaty" doesn't even touch how profusely I was perspiring. BUT......I got it done right and I got it done fast.Three more evolutions later and on the last one, Bill has us pull every inch of line off the engine and then turn around and repack it. He's still not saying much to any of us other than directives.

We ride back into the station, get off and as a group, head outside (it was in the high 40's temp wise at that point) and start stripping off bunker gear. I literally saw steam coming off of me. Every article of clothing I had on looked like I had taken it out of the washing machine in mid-cycle (but I suspect it didn't smell that way) and I was shaking from head to toe I was so tired.We did the engine inspection form and headed back in to get our recap. Bill is standing there looking deadly serious...and I'm thinking "uh oh" ....and then he started a slow smile....which morphed into a grin....which turned into a high-five and a back-slap for each of us. We had done ok, better than ok, and we "had it down".Tough love? Yup, but I'm pretty sure I can tap a hydrant in my sleep now, and when every second counts in a real emergency, that's the kind of training that you can't take shortcuts on.

Now if I could just get the hang of that hose-packing thing--for some reason I can't quite get the hang of where to fold and where to put the couplers, even after ten evolutions.I suspect I'll get my fill of that during FF1.

Stay safe, and in the meantime, I'll be counting all my bruises.

The Mailbox Massacre and The Knob

All I can say is.....thank god it wasn't me (this time).

Our usual drill night arrived, although I wasn't sure I was going to go...I'd been sick most of the day, but we got toned out about an hour before drill for an overturned bicyclist in a ravine...., and I figured if I could respond to that, I could drag my butt to drill.

The first half hour of drill was a repeat of what I like to call "The Chinese Fire Drill"---essentially, our chief sends everyone out on all three rigs, and everyone practices their driving skills. We ride around the village practicing turns and trying not to run down small children, and then meet up at a designated spot and everyone switches rigs (Hence the Chinese Fire Drill----we haven't left anyone standing on the side of the road yet, but it's only a matter of time...)

--I did my gig behind the wheel, managed not to make an ass of myself or hit anyone, and pulled over to switch out with another "newbie".....I plopped down in my exterior jump seat (WHY it doesn't have a seatbelt is beyond me, but that's coming up in my next conversation with the chief) and decided to kick back and enjoy the ride and the opportunity to zone out and not think for a little while.

We head down a street that has a cul-de-sac turnaound at the end of it....the driver makes the first part of the circle turn uneventfully...doesn't seem to be cranking the wheel hard enough.....and I sit up a little bit straighter in my seat.

Now I'm nervously eyeballing the line of six mailboxes anchored into posts on the interior of the circle---and the side of the engine seems to be cutting it pretty close......and then CRASH!!!! (scrape, grind, crumple, crumple,, crash.....) ---and the rig shudders to a halt.

The entire line of mailboxes is now half upright, half jammed up against the side of the rig.I hear one of the senior guys in the compartment say the understatement of the year....."Uh oh".

I jump down to assess the damage.....everyone else piles out and we all stand there looking at each other thinking...."how fast can we fix this before any of the homeowners figure out what's going on?" ---Mike pulls the rig forward (which now has a very nice scrape running the length of it) ---we grab the sledge out of the side compartment and the cordless screw driver.....and with two of us playing lookout for the neighbors....start hammering the posts back into the ground and screwing the boxes back onto the posts.

Then we hauled ass out of there. The mailboxes looked ALMOST the same as they did before we slaughtered them.We get back from our relaxing drive through the countryside, and Chief has decided we're going to do an outside live burn. I'm still pretty new to the SCBA, but I'm more comfortable getting it on (properly)....As we head into the back burn area of our department, Glenn yells over to me "get your pack on" ---so I gear up and get off the rig.

There's a decently sized bonfire burning merrily away (s'mores anyone?) and now all the newbies (including yours truly) are standing around it waiting for some direction. And its pretty warm......and I'm starting to perspire a little bit.....And now a bead of sweat is working its way from my forehead to the tip of my nose.......and it's starting to bug me a little bit.

I instinctively swat the nose area of my face to stop the annoying tickle....only to realize that my mask is in the way....and I can't do a damned thing about it. The mildly annoying tickle is now driving me half out of my mind......and other rolling beads of sweat have decided to join the party on my face......I might have ripped my mask off right then and there to get some relief.....but at that point the fire has burned down enough to suit the boss, and he walks over to me and says "I want you to get on the knob".I blink at him.....he looks at me waiting confirmation.....I blink again and say......"I'm sorry....you want me to do what on the what???" .....He replies....."get on the knob....take the nozzle on the hose" ......Ohhhhhhhhh.......ok.........now I get it..........

I get comfortable "on the knob" (ok, I'll admit it here, I'm ALWAYS going to smirk when I hear that) and work on putting out the fire, and do a decent job of it.....my partner blew through his air tank so I passed off the hose and we went to start changing out bottles and cleaning up.

Damage report for the night......a couple of mailboxes and a newbie's pride(and a huge amount of relief on my part that I wasn't the one behind the wheel....because we all know if anyone besides that kid was going to trash something with the rig....it was probably going to be me.....)But the upside...... I LOVE DOING THIS JOB!!!!

Next week? Trench Rescue!!! (this ought to be interesting...)

Stay safe, buckle up, and until next time...

Throwing Ladders

I ambled into drill tonight fully expecting yet another evening of videotapes or chalk and talk.Noticing that the projector and a/v system wasn't set up, I inquired "What are we doing tonight?"...The 1st Asst. Chief grinned at me...."Hope you're feeling limber, we're playing with ladders and hoses tonight"

(Gulp)

Here's the gig....I have what I like to call a "situational" fear of heights. There are certain circumstances that inspire that ooogy feeling, and others that, inexplicably, do not. To the casual observer, there's not much to differentiate between the two, but as I've tried to explain...If I think that there's a chance I might accidentally fall, and it's an open exposed setting, it's not a happy place for me.On the flip side, I have no problem standing on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, or, when the World Trade Center was still standing, leaning forward and resting my forehead against the floor to ceiling windows of Wild Blue and looking down the gap between the window and wall all 110 stories to the ground.

To further elaborate....roller coasters...indoors, in the dark? (Rock N Roller Coaster)...can't get enough, can ride it ten times in a row...no problem. Superman at Six Flags New England?Not in this lifetime, sucker. I'd refuse to ride that thing at gunpoint. My hands are getting sweaty right now just thinking about it. Obviously bungee jumping is right out.

Having not scaled too many ladders in my lifetime....I simply had no idea how I'd feel about it until I got up there. But I'm getting ahead of myself......Drill Step 1.) They took all the newbies and never-ever drivers out in our apparatus (what's the singular of apparatus, is it apparati?) with the line officers to get a feel for driving the big rigs.LOVED IT. I could drive that thing all the live-long day....and I'm good at it. Driving is an instinctual talent for me; I'm not rattled by the size of the vehicle.

Four newbies...three rigs.....rotating off on three vehicles every ten minutes.....me grinning like the village idiot the entire time; "Can I play with the lights? What does this do? What happens if I push THAT....What's this dial for?" --you get the picture.....holy annoying Batman. My captain has the patience of Job.

Drill Step 2.) Ladders. We drive the apparatus up to the training buildings...and we start with the single story flat-roofed burn building. After a brief explanation of what type of ladders are used, and for what purpose....we run drills on pulling and throwing. "Well, ok...this isn't too bad" I thought to myself.Ladders, as my friend Kenzi has told me so often, are heavier than they appear. "Let me just grab this end and JESUS MURPHY that's heavy".....

Now we have multiple ladders in position, and it's time to cut bait or fish. My sole fellow female recruit takes one look and says "nope, not doing it". I see the looks going around the group and realize that if nothing else, I'm going to take a whack at it, because as I've said so often, it's the rare occasion that I back down from a challenge; personal or otherwise.

First things first is the leg lock on the ladder. Not anywhere as easy as it looks. After contorting myself like Houdini I finally manage to hook my foot back through the ladder rung (Keep in mind that this is the same foot that took the beating falling off the treadmill two days ago...that's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.)--finally accomplish that, and it's time to climb or step off.I choose to climb.

What in the name of all the tea in China was I so worried about????? This is NOTHING. This is CAKE. This is....can it be? Why yes, I do believe it can be.....FUN!!!! I'm absolutely astonished (not quite as astonished as I was at reading about our Governor's hijinks with the Emperor's prostitution ring ---oh Elliot....we clearly never knew ye) at how little impact this is having on me. I step onto the roof and look down, feeling like I've crossed some invisible "acceptance" line within the department.

Oh wait, I still have to get down......hand plant, foot plant, swing my hips around....second foot plant...second hand plant.....what the hell.....this is NOTHING.....I'm INVINCIBLE........ ;) (and I'm in full turnout with SCBA by the way).Hooray!!! Maybe I actually CAN be a firefighter!!

I believed, way down deep inside, packed away with all of my other hidden insecurities, that maybe heights and ladders were going to be my Waterloo. I crossed the Rubicon and felt a wave of something....belonging? .....fate?......dunno. But I felt like I belonged.

We repeated the exercise on the training tower to the third story.....no problem.

I'm elated.....I'm a fire geek........and I've found a home.

Rolling hose? Not loving that so much.Until next time........

The Continuing Chronicles of the FNG(irl): My First Drill

Driving snow? Check.
Visibility Zero? Check.
Icy Roads? Check.
Arctic Temperatures? Check.

Drill Night Game Plan...tapping hydrants in the village? Check....brrrrrrrrrrrr........

"Drop your ____ and grab your socks newbies....we're going out to practice tapping hydrants....right NOW...you've got two minutes to get your turnouts on"....And thus began my first drill night.

Trial by fire? Yup. Worth it? Oh hell yup. Did I love it? YES!!!

There must be something wrong with me.

Am now on a first name basis with the spanner wrenches, and have figured out the fastest way off the truck and WHY wrapping the hose around the base of the hydrant is so important.

I would, however, like to talk about rolling hose....this is about as much fun as a root canal. And we rolled a LOT of hose tonight. I can see me having a love/hate relationship with the hose.

The Continuing Chronicles of the FNG(irl): The Fit Test and Physical

First things first....I passed. (a barely stifled YIPPEEE!!)

Received my Class A certification card which will accompany me to my swearing-in.
There were some aspects to the physical and fit test that I found.....disconcerting:

1.) The eye test: after a rather frustrating several minutes with my face jammed up against what appeared to be a Fisher-Price Movie Viewer, and telling the examiner that I couldn't SEE "A-1" because it was missing....turns out that there was a big black dot of ink or something on the viewer (mascara?, not mine)that was obscuring the upper left corner of the screen. Calamity averted. Test passed.

2.) The Hearing Test: After holding my breath in that sound-proof booth for almost three minutes because I couldn't tell if I had actually heard a tone or just imagined it, and the sound of my exhalations was becoming a distraction...I started to feel like I was on "Win Ben Stein's Money".

3.) The Breath Test: Oh Yessss....THIS is just a barrel of laughs. I take my big deep "from the diaphragm" breath....whoosh it all out as instructed until I'm of the conviction that there is NO AIR left in my lungs or anywhere else in my body, and the examiner pats me on the back encouragingly and says...."c'mon....just a little bit more....keep going, keep going, keep going..." I'm looking at her and thinking....Lady...what is it that you want me to accomplish here? Aspirate my eyeballs? Then I finally get the beep and she says perkily...."Great!! Now you only have to do two more just like that" ...TWO MORE?? My lungs are on the FLOOR....wtf???

4.) The mask fit: Ok, this WAS fun...although the whole thing had a kind of Monty Python quality to it. I got a good seal on the first mask (small---thanks for the tip Kenzie)--then we started up with the silliness....nodding up and down....turning my head side to side....bending over again and again....then we got to the "try to dislodge the mask by making faces" ...and I got the giggles. Perky test examiner wasn't anywhere near as amused as I was at the "demonstration" grimacing she was doing....Me? I was almost on the floor. Our rapport kind of went downhill after that.

5.) The physical: I've had extensive physicals before, and this wasn't one of em. 15 minutes to hook me up to the EKG monitor to run five seconds of tape. We're done? Really? Alrighty then....
Next up: The Swearing In and Gear!!

The Continuing Chronicles of the FNG(irl): Unofficially Official

Well, props to my chief, he didn't want me to have to wait another week or so to get the arson check back and then have to wait for the letter from the department, so.....drumroll.........
I'm unofficially officially IN !!!

I'll be getting sworn in at the next department business meeting (first Tuesday in February), that is, of course, as long as my arson background check comes back clean.

They can't count that time my sisters and I set the garage on fire when I was eight years old...can they? I think that requires a short explanation: The backyard was knee deep in those fluffy powderpuff things from all of the trees in our yard...and somehow my sister Cathy figured out that they went up like a Roman candle and then blazed out just as quickly if you lit them with a match. It was a boring afternoon, all five of us were home and in dire need of a diversion before we started picking on each other, and next thing I knew....WHAM!!!!!!!! Those fluffy things practically blew up, and then they set fire to the dried out creeper vine that was growing all over the garage. If Mr. Paul next door hadn't sprinted out with a fire extinguisher, I think my parents might have packed us off to that girls school in the Canadian Rockies they kept threatening us with.

Right, where was I?

So once I get my letter, I'll go get my physical, bring back the proof, attend the business meeting, get sworn in and geared up, outfitted with a pager, and then it's off to FF1 for about 15 weeks. In the meantime, I can respond to calls and develop my traffic safety skills. :) This is, hands DOWN, the single most exciting thing I've ever done in my life, and I have NOT had a boring life.
Stay tuned...I'll post pics of the swearing in and me attired in my fetching turnout gear when I get them

The Chronicles of the FNG(irl): Intro

My name is Mary Ellen. Those that know me fairly well call me Mel. The short story behind my nickname is that I used to cook professionally at one point in my life (among other occupations) and had a nasty habit of burning the bacon I was charged with cooking off on a weekly basis. As this was becoming an expensive habit, the chef in charge of the kitchen decided he needed to shorten my name; the thought process was that he had at least a shot at saving a couple of trays of porcine fatback if he used a shortened version of my name to screech at me that the convection oven was on fire....again.

I'm the state-wide training coordinator for the Firemen's Association of the State of New York (FASNY) and I spend approximately 50% of my time criss-crossing NYS running firefighter and EMS training seminars in hundreds of fire departments in every county. The other 50% of my professional time is spent setting up the logistics and ancillary details surrounding the seminars, and then reconciling the classes in terms of the financials and certification. I like my job, I LOVE being out on the road with the classes, meeting FASNY members and listening to the "war stories" and talking about issues facing the volunteer fire service.

I decided not too long ago that instead of talking about firefighter safety all the time, I'd practice firefighter safety and finally get off my rear and join.

So I walked the quarter mile down the road to my local fire department, talked to the chief, filed an application, and next up? (cue the Phantom of the Opera music)..."The Interview". As in tomorrow night, as in I'm sweating bullets, as in my type-A personality brain is actively attempting to second guess how the process is going to go. In general, when I obsess about something, the reality tends to be one million times better than my overactive imagination has portrayed. Take a peek inside my cranium...'What if they don't like me?" "What if they ask me something that I don't know, but should?" "What if they think I'm some weak girl and can't do the job?" ---the list of questions racing around my medulla oblongata is ENDLESS.

I know the following: I want this, I'm ready for this, and I'm physically and mentally prepared for this. I haven't been this excited about ANYTHING in a long, long time. I can't wait to start training, and my most fervent hope is that a.) I don't do TOO many stupid things and that b.) I don't do something so stupid that someone else gets hurt as a result.

My game plan? thanks to some sage advice from a friend...Shut up, listen,don't take any crap, train hard, stay safe, and try not to make too big a fool of myself (I'm a little klutzy).
Stay tuned...I'll be back with the results of my interview.