Barely thirty minutes after I knocked off last night we awoke to the screaming of fire engines in our neighbourhood. I jumped up, stepped into a pair of pants and opened the sliding door to the balcony to see more fire engines making their way to our block from the main route and other support vehicles parked down the street. It couldn't be our building, but to make sure I opened the front door. As a testament to out building's solid concrete walls I was greeted by flashing red lights and blistering sirens. The street was clogged with emergency services workers and our pajama clad neightbours, most of which I've never met nor seen, in the hall trying to make sense of what was going on. After about five minutes an announcement came over a loud speaker telling us it was a false alarm. Apparently some shit-for-brains came in off the street, ripped up all the posters on the lobby bulletin board, trashed some mailboxes and pulled a silent alarm. Two minutes later the fire department, police and ambulances were gone. The neighbourhood spectators retired to their warm futons, myself included, although it took a bit longer than usual to get back to sleep.

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