We didn’t start the fire (well….)

Remember the NYPD incident? This is part two.

Friday night I got off of work with a serious craving for hot dog and fries. After procuring the ingredients from D’ags, I took a nap before waking up to fix my feast. I put some canola oil on the stove for the fries and started cutting up potatoes. For some reason I had it in my head that the oil needed to boil before dropping the potatoes in. It wouldn’t boil, so I put the lid on it to speed things up. Thirty seconds later the pot was black inside, so I took the lid off and the entire pot burst into flames!

I knew water + grease = bad idea, so I tried blowing on the fire to see if that would put it out. Nope; made it worse. The grease was burning in the pot and up the sides, and smoke was filling up the kitchen. In what may have been a poor decision, I propped open the door to my apartment and ran down to Julio. “Do you have a fire extinguisher!?! My stove is on fire!!” I don’t know what kind of doorman doesn’t keep a fire extinguisher in his little office, but apparently Julio is that kind of doorman. I sprinted back upstairs (again, 4th floor was a bad choice) and called 911. Within a few minutes I heard sirens, and then FDNY running up the stairs.

I don’t even want to know how much those guys hated me. Here’s some idiot girl that made us carry jaws of life, axes, gas masks and more up 4 flights of stairs because she can’t even cook dinner for herself. They put the fire out in about 5 seconds — put the lid back on. Also, I guess I’m the only person in America that didn’t know baking soda puts out grease fires. The boys left after ten minutes of standing around in my kitchen, and probably had a good laugh on their way back to the firehouse. Later that night when I went down, two police offers were outside and talked to me for 15 minutes about how I was a troublemaker and that they were over here because the firefighters broke her window and she was afraid. Eulgh.

I just spent the past 45 minutes up on a stool scrubbing soot off the ceiling, and I’ve still got a ways to go. Screw this.


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