A Rock To Tie A String Around

I’ve been wondering lately why in most hotels, there is a fire axe provided alongside the fire extinguisher.  In most cases the fire axe is readily accessed by means of opening the protective glass door and is prominently displayed in the hotel hallway.  Maybe I’m just thinking about this because it’s Halloween time, but way too many horror movies have sprung from just this convenience. 

I’m wondering why anyone in the thinking world would dare place an axe within grabbing distance after they’ve seen The Shining, and not that made for TV travesty….I’m talking Stanley Kubrick.

I looked it up.  The reason, according to wikipedia that fire axes are still available in many hotels and public places is that they are supposed to be used to pry open doors, remove doorways from the door trim in the event that the knob is too hot to touch, and also to cut through electrical wires.

I can somewhat understand the prying open of doors, even the need to actually remove the door, but in the event of a fire I have absolutely no intention of searching out any electrical wires to cut.

I have compiled what I believe to be a more practical list of items to include in hotel fire safety collections.

1.  Industrial grade oven mits to be used for turning door handles that have become too hot to touch – far less potential for horror than the fire axe, and serves the same purpose.

2.  Parachutes in every room, for jumping out of very tall buildings.  I used to work in a hotel that was forty-two stories tall.  The fire department ladders only reached to the fifteenth floor. You do the math.

3.  Included with the parachutes, hangliders on the roof.  That way, in the event of a horrible hotel fire that prevents guests from escaping via the lower floors, one could make a break for the roof, strap themselves into a hanglider and sail away….hell, even when you consider the worse possible outcome of a legion of untrained hanglider patrons sailing over a metropolitan area, it can’t be worse than being trapped in a fire.

4.  Many, many, many more fire extinguishers.   I mean lots of fire extinguishers.  No more of just one per floor.  If I had my druthers, I would have one for each room, maybe two for each room, and a complimentary bucket of baking soda to keep under the bed just in case.

I personally plan on taking the fire axe from every hotel and hiding it in my closet, just so the serial killer in the next room can’t find it later.

Mom, we need to talk.  I have something I really need to tell you and I don’t quite know how you’re going to take it. I know that you’ve noticed that I’ve been distracted and distant; maybe you’ve noticed that I’ve started slipping words like ‘aggregate’ and ‘whimsical’ into my conversations.  I know you probably think it’s a phase, something I’m just curious about, that I’m just trying to do something to shock you and when you ignore my desperate attempts for attention, I’ll go back to normal.

The thing is Mom, it’s not a phase, and no matter how many inspirational teacher posters you send me, or how many pencils with fuzzy letters that spell out “I love teacher” that I collect, I’ll never be happy.

The thing is Mom; I think I might be a writer.

I know you paid my tuition to college so I could get my teaching certificate, I know you’ve told all your friends that I’m a teacher, I know how proud you are of my district paid health insurance benefits.

But the thing is Mom, despite all those pencils and company paid deductibles; I think I might be a writer.

And it’s not just a phase, and I won’t be happy just writing in a journal, I think I want to write something bigger, something even more important.  I think I want to write a novel.

In fact…. I’m just going to come out and say it, I did write a novel.  I wrote one last year without telling you.  My novel was the reason I didn’t come around for Sunday dinner, it was the reason I forgot to call you every week.  My novel and I were together, working out plot lines, ironing out character discrepancies, trying not to splice my sentences.

And further more, my novel has made me a better person. If it weren’t for my novel I never would have read that wiki on nautical terms or researched how bio-fuel cars work.  My novel is the reason I get up in the morning, and now that it’s complete, we want to make it official.

Mom, I’m going to an editor, and I know what everyone will say.  I know we live in a small town and people will talk.  I know how they whisper about the Donnelly boy, the one who became a musician.  I know how embarrassing this is going to be for you.

I just hope that one day, we can sit down and talk about it.  Maybe my novel and I can even come over for dinner.  I think you would like my novel, there’s a really funny part about a kangaroo and a flowerpot that I think the two of you could really bond over.

So whenever you’re ready Mom, our door is open.