How I Almost Burned Down A House Today
The HOT Details
You know how parents say, hey kid, don't burn down the house? Well, they don't call me kid anymore because I'm 28 and eleven-twelfths, and the fire trucks just left about two hours ago. Easy, before you jump to conclusions, no, I did not burn down their lake house. However, I may be partially responsible for burning down part of the mudroom. And when I say partially, it was for sure not my fault; honestly, I kinda was the hero here.
Around 5 pm, I'm laying on the couch on the other side of the house after a long day of Zoom, accounting, and other admin bullshit, relaxing and listening to the Economist (I know I'm a nerd, but I know more about the conflict in Hati than I did 6 hours ago...), when the fire alarm went off. Me, the ever-relaxed person, heard the alarm and thought it was a false one, I walked into the kitchen where the gas fireplace was running, as it does all day, and I smelled smoke. I smelled actual smoke, but I couldn't see it, as I searched for the fireplace remote (the thing can't be turned off without the remote, a design flaw for the ages), I called my mother and told her to send the fire department, I need to find the remote to shut this thing off.
You may be wondering why I called my mother before 911; first of all, it is because I'm the son of a Jewish Mother; second, it's because I did not know if I would be on hold trying to reach 911 and could not spare the time multi-tasking and not find the remote. I plunged my hands into the fireplace, looking for an off switch, but nothing; I pulled up couch cushions, looked under tables, and finally found the remote under a book. I turned off the fire but could still smell smoke; the source alluded to me. As I followed my nose, I opened the door to the mudroom next to the kitchen and was hit with a wall of smoke thick enough that I knew this house would go down if this fire were not out in the next 10 minutes.
I grabbed my laptop (hey, man's gotta work, especially if the house burns down) and my wallet/keys/phone (no, I did not do the pat down of the pockets). As the alarm continued to rip, I did a lap around the outside of the house, got into the garage, and found the expired fire extinguisher my father keeps in his vintage Mustang (he keeps it there if the thing ever blows up while he's driving). I ripped the plastic off the bottle, pulled the pin, shook the extinguisher (did I think it was a bottle of champagne I was going to spray?), and dialed 911 as I cracked the door to the mudroom.
You must understand that I am in a small town with a VOLUTEER fire department. The entire house will burn if I don't put this out; at least, that's what was going through my mind. 911 picked up in 10 seconds, said I should leave the area, and informed me that help was on the way. In under 30 seconds from my call, I could hear the volunteer siren wailing, calling all firefighters to the local station. (I later learned that my mother, calling from DC, could not reach the proper county dispatch for quite a while).
As the smoke poured out of the mudroom, I could see it was the dryer where the smoke was coming from, where I had a load of clothes going about an hour earlier. I hit the ground, holding my breath, trying to stay below the smoke, and crouched with the fire extinguisher closing in on the dryer. As I got closer, I could not see any flames. I went in and out of the room, getting fresh air every 20 seconds, but I still could not locate the base of the fire. As I crawled out of the mudroom, my phone rang.
The local fire chief got my number from my mother and instructed me to flip the breakers. As I rushed into the basement to locate the panels, I noticed a layer of smoke above my head; it was clear that the fire was venting into my new location in the basement. The panels were well labeled, but the breakers were not; I hit five switches, knowing at least one of them would shut off the mudroom power, and hustled back to the dryer. I looked at the mudroom, knowing I might not be able to locate the exact base of the flames, and jumped in my car. I knew my car would block access for the firetruck, so I ripped around the driveway (sorry about fucking up your new driveway, Dad) and parked the car out of the way.
I'm not sure how long passed, but when I looked up from the mudroom (I later learned the fire department got there in under 12 minutes), the fire chief was standing over me, a 6'4, 240 man who looked like he could do just about anything that involved physical strength and engineering smarts. He hit me with two questions: Where's the fire, and did you spray the extinguisher in the mudroom? I told him the fire was near the dryer, but the flames remained elusive, and that I had only tested it, but I did not let it rip because I could not locate the base. The six firefighters pulled the dryer from the wall, exposing flames under the house. It turns out the coil and exhaust pipe that runs under our house lit up when I started the dryer, or at some point during the load, they extinguished the fire and pulled the charred pipe out from under the house.
As they put out the fire, I sprinted around upstairs, opening all the windows, knowing I did not want the home to be ruined by smoke damage. As the dust settled and the fire was extinguished, the house aired out (I'm currently wrapped in blankets with all the windows open, surrounded by baking soda to try and mitigate the stink). I called my parents and let them know the ordeal was over.
After the firefighters left, I ordered a meatball sub, booked it to the grocery store, and bought 2 XL bottles of Johnny Walker Black. I ran back to the house, scribbled a quick thank you note, picked up my meatball sub, and dropped off the liquor at the fire station with my thank you for saving my ass and house note. All this to say, it's been less than 4 hours since the fire. I'm headed to Charlotte, NC, tomorrow to interview some friends and kick off my podcasting career (lookout, world, now my voice AND my writing will be spamming your feeds), and I just cranked out the last work emails of the evening. Everyone talks about putting out fires in startup land; today, I learned what trying to put one out in real fire feels like.
(for those of you wondering, I later learned that the fire was the result of years of lint buildup in the exhaust pipes which ignited, this, to my surprise, has nothing to do with cleaning out the lint filter when I started my load)