The dap I didn’t know I needed from a firefighter
Yet another time I wish I’d have listened to my dog
This is an excerpt from the “Homegrown Tales” post “Electric baseboard heater on fire, speedy lesson in how to use a fire extinguisher ~ Once again, I learned why I should always listen to my dog,” originally written on September 25, 2022.
I’ve never been someone who embarrasses easily. Embarrassment doesn’t even enter my top 20 moods. But when my smoke detector went off after I put out the fire, I snapped into action to avoid waking up my neighbors. Then another smoke detector went off. While the firemen talked, I was trying to figure out where that noise was coming from. I realized the second smoke detector was in the common-area hallway, but they were not interested in taking it down. Meanwhile, I was determined to get that alarm down immediately.
I grabbed a step ladder, moved past two firemen and removed it from the hallway ceiling. But I couldn’t get the battery out, finally getting so impatient that I handed it to the nearest fireman. Other firemen were storming around me, opening all of my windows, twisting the blinds, turning on fans, propping open my back door and screen door, and I looked around at this chaos. I was mortified.
It’s one thing to have an electric fire that you had no control over from an appliance that was installed before you bought the place. It’s another for the neighborhood to know this is happening at 3:30 a.m. Even the firefighter who stood on my couch with his shoes on couldn’t make me less ashamed. I eased my way into a hallway where onlookers couldn’t see me in my pajamas, head wrap and glasses.
An African-American firefighter — the only black firefighter in a room full of men — strolled through my front door after all the windows, doors and fans were adjusted to prevent smoke inhalation. He looked around to see what happened. I immediately started explaining myself, and he smiled.
What the fawk is so funny? He pointed to my nose. I apparently had soot on it like Rudolph the White-Nosed Reindeer. I headed to my bathroom to grab a facial tissue to wipe my face and returned to finish my thoughts. While I could see other firemen standing around, assessing the ventilation, the brotha turned to me, checked out my nose again and said, “So, you put out the fire, huh?” I nodded. “Good job, quick thinking!” he said and gave me dap.
I felt like a kid who just got a gold star on her Report Card. I realized at that moment that he was the first (and only) fireman to check on me in addition to the room. A few of the men smiled and pointed at my still-crated dog, but never asked me “Are you OK?” One other fireman started giving me instructions on what to tell my landlord about the baseboard heater, who I quickly corrected about me being the owner, not the tenant he assumed I was.
Still, that brotha immediately smiling and dapping me up made all the difference. I went from being ashamed of the entire situation to pretty proud of myself for handling it by myself.
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