I am staying at a hotel that is new to me while I do some consulting work for a fire department. The last time I was in town I stayed at a different hotel, which had a fire alarm problem during the night. There was no fire, but a detector was having issues. This is why I chose to stay at a different hotel.
So, at 2:35 a.m., when the alarm sounds in this hotel, I am not happy. I get up and the alarm is silenced. I go to the door to my room and look through the peephole. Nothing seems amiss and nobody is evacuating. I open the door a crack and sniff the air in the hallway, and I don’t detect any smoke odor. I take my more than 45 years of fire service experience back to bed.
For about 5 minutes ….
Then, the alarm sounds again and this time I get up and get dressed, grab my computer bag, and join a quiet group evacuating from the fourth (top) floor. We make our way to the third-floor landing, and there is a steady stream of people joining us. I look in the open hallway door and don’t see smoke, but I think I can faintly smell it. And it does not smell like burnt popcorn or something else in a microwave. It smells like wood and plastic.
We continue down the stairs and the second-floor guests join us. Everybody is orderly but becoming more purposeful. Apparently, I am not the only one who smells smoke, but still, nobody is excited.
The fire door on the base of the stairs is open to the outside with the first people exiting. I can hear the motor gong ringing from the sprinkler system and, as we exit the stairs to the outside, I notice water flowing from the sprinkler system drain. So, there is at least one sprinkler head flowing in the building. But, I still don’t see smoke.
Walking to the parking lot at the front of the hotel to put my computer bag in my truck, I see a lot of smoke coming from the front of the building. As I walk farther into the parking lot, I look back at the building and toward the hotel entrance. There are bright orange flames rapidly climbing the side of the building and growing. Flames reach from the ground to above the cornice on the fourth floor.
The only siren I hear is from an approaching police car. It arrives and parks in an adjacent parking lot, to not to block the responding fire apparatus. I am impressed. The patrolman looks for hotel staff, who are already taking a head count and checking names of the guests who evacuated. The patrolman enters the hotel, chewing on his shoulder mic, presumably to roust guests who are not accounted for outside.
It seems strange being just a bystander. There is nothing that I should do. I think about accompanying the cop to bang on doors, but he is quickly joined by more cops. I can’t think of anything to do that would be appropriate or helpful. I have no official role or standing. I’m just a retired guy who still teaches fire officer classes and does promotional testing. My last helmet is hanging on the wall at my home office with a coat of dust on it. There’s not a whole lot I can do without a fire truck and some firefighters.
The guests seem calm, although those who have rooms near the fire are nervous about their belongings. There are no fire units yet, just several police units that also park out of the way.
From my tactical position (out of the way on a grass median in the parking lot), it appears like the fire started outside by the first floor, but the building’s siding is burning furiously. It looks like the fire has gotten inside the second and third floors through the windows, and flames are lapping across the cornice (probably stucco over Styrofoam).
The first fire unit arrives, a quint. It gets stuck by curbing in the parking lot and driveway while trying to corner to get a position on the front (if you have driven a ladder, you know the feeling). It is not in a great position, but the ladder will still be able to fulfill its mission to get to upper windows or the roof.
The preconnect is pulled but apparently it doesn’t clear the crosslay bed. When the firefighter calls for water, the line is charged and gets wedged in the hosebed, preventing water from reaching the nozzle.
The driver comes around the truck, and I realize he is younger than both of my sons. He sees the problem and gives a mighty yank on the hose, which surprisingly clears the hosebed, and water reaches the nozzle. I am again impressed. I am sure his adrenalin helped, but that took some strength.
It is a rule that retirees think (preferably silently on scene) that we would have spotted the truck better, gotten the preconnect pulled faster, and gotten water on the fire quicker. It’s funny how you remember being better. It’s not real-time armchair quarterbacking, but it’s taking your experience and applying it to the situation happening in front of you. And, it feels strange not to be pulling the line, setting up command, or doing a couple dozen other things that need to get done. I don’t like the feeling of just watching.
Water starts flowing from the hoseline, directed up the side of the building, and quickly knocking down the visible fire. A lady from South Africa, who I later met, cheers loudly and excitedly. An engine company arrives and then more.
I don’t see a line go inside, but crews are inside checking for extension.
The driver of the quint starts pulling a 100-foot section of 5 feet to the hydrant. Another firefighter joins in and makes the hydrant connection.
As he charges it, I kick a couple kinks out. A patrolman starts to walk over, points to my fire chief’s association logo on my jacket, smirks, and gives a two-finger salute.
I stand by the battalion chief’s truck eavesdropping. Everybody is calm and professional. Another patrolman starts my way to move me away, but the battalion chief shakes his head “no” and gives me a nod. I suspect I had met him while I was superintendent of the state fire college or while doing promotional testing.
The visible fire is out, and the building seems to have very little smoke in it.
I see another guest with a cup of coffee, and my interest in the now-extinguished fire immediately wanes as I venture to the nearby convenience store.
Now with coffee, I retire to a better observation area, the bench out front. And, then I feel guilty that I didn’t ask the battalion chief if he wanted coffee.
Firefighters walk by carrying tools and their self-contained breathing apparatus and a couple, noticing the logo on the jacket, give me a nod or a smile.
So, here I am riding the pine (bench) in front of the hotel that was on fire, waiting to be allowed back in, and wearing an “Old Guys Rule” baseball hat.
Bio: Dave Casey is the managing partner at Ascend Leadership, a promotional testing and officer development training provider. Casey retired as the superintendent of Florida State Fire College and later was the director of the Louisiana State University’s Fire & Emergency Training Institute. Combined, he has directed firefighter training and certification for more than 10 years. He served as Clay County’s fire chief for 11 years and previously came up through the ranks of Sunrise (FL) Fire Rescue. He was also a volunteer with the Plantation (FL) Fire Department.
