Pair of Aces
Right door, wrong rig. I’m an idiot could be one explanation. Another could be that Engine 6211 and 6212 look exactly alike, and 6212 is on the Fire Station apron while 6211 is still in the station when the alarm goes off. Training on the enclosed space entry equipment comes to an abrupt end as we head off in 6212 on the way to a bicycle accident.
Captain Sullens is kind enough not to mention the wrong rig thing. Perhaps he didn’t see it. But he does remind me to take off the headset before I get out on scene. So maybe he did.
There could be worse places to take a tumble on a bike. Fort Ord Dunes State Park is gorgeous today, and its beauty was the siren song to the crash. Here’s another reason to wear a helmet on a bike. It won’t fly off in the wind, and you won’t reach for it and lose control of your bike. When things go wrong in an instant, public safety employees get the call. They drop what they are doing, get there as fast as it is safe to do so, and help as best they can.
IAFF #17 President Jason Roth once explained firefighters to me as thoroughbreds; explaining that they’re constantly training for high performance runs, and that’s not inexpensive. The bike accident victim is taken good care off and we’re back at the station for a few minutes before both Shift B companies head out to work through some complications with a training exercise scheduled for tomorrow. The building is complicated; a mix of commercial and residential uses, assembled in stacks like Lego blocks. The guys are trying to figure out how best / fast to lay hose to attack fires originating in various locations.
The three dimensional race against time puzzle has me asking two questions. The first is how do they figure it out when they don’t get to see it in advance. At night. In the rain and fog. Before I can ask the second question or get a full answer to the first, the radios squeal and we’re off to another call. We run (I won’t say thoroughbred but certainly not Clydesdale) several hundred feet to 6212 and head off to another medical call. We arrive and I see the Sunday PD shift assignments haven’t changed since last week. A man needs help and help is provided, with skill and empathy.
Two training assignments. Both interrupted by calls. President Roth, proved right again. All the while, Battalion Chief Blaha’s lasagna is baking. There was one funny smoke filled moment in the kitchen, but dinner arrives without incident or another interruption. The eighteen pounds of cheese, marinara and noodle is consumed as heartily as the stories of less than pleasant medical calls are told. They’re a great group of guys and, as I noted as we were heading back to the station from a call, it was an honor to ride with them.
Stay safe.
