By: Aithne
Editor’s Note: When this article crossed my desk, it brought back memories. The ‘rite of passage’ that all female journalists seem to take when they find out about the FDH and then get the pleasure of having Rog show them around. Once you have finished reading Aithne’s great article, I invite you to revist when Jenny and I, in our first term or so at CU met with Rog and were given the FDH experience (which involved actual demonstration of the dampening effect of suspension on boob physics….)
Unsung Heroes
In Hathian, where ‘corruption’ is practically a condiment and ‘horror’ is on the daily specials menu, it’s easy to overlook the unsung heroes. Like… journalists! Yes, those brave souls who risk carpal tunnel for the truth. But let’s be honest, even they get overshadowed by the real MVPs: the folks who save your life, often while you’re too busy screaming to say “Thanks!“
My tour guide through the FDH was Lieutenant Rog Messmer, a man whose calm demeanour suggests he’s seen things that would make a seasoned therapist need therapy. That’s him on the left. The station is a fascinating study, with fire trucks and ambulances that are basically mobile emergency rooms, constantly on the go.
Lt. Messmer informed me that fifty ambulance calls to one fire call is ‘totally normal.’ Apparently, we’re better at stabbing each other than setting things ablaze. Which, you know, could be a good thing? This place is really making me jaded. Their medical philosophy: if you’re not actively dying, please form a line. Worst hurt gets first treatment. Probably the fairest way to do it.
Their communication system is refreshingly straightforward. Instead of dramatic nicknames, they use vehicle IDs and hose ring colors. (see left) “Lurch, green ring, more water!” It’s efficient, it’s practical, and it avoids the awkwardness looking up the department website for code names!
Speaking of, Lurch, the name of the ladder truck, is a behemoth that can reach those tall buildings. It relies on hydrant pressure, which is fine, unless the hydrant has decided to join the chaos and city pressure is down.
Then there’s Velma, the smaller pumper, with her own water supply and ability to pump it herself. She has an emblem emblazoned on the door, of a woman in full firefighter gear, hose in hand, striking a pose that can only be described as ‘heroic pin-up.’ Some things are best left as glorious, baffling mysteries, so I didn’t ask.
The ambulances, A-1 and A-2, are basically rolling trauma centers. They’re ready for anything, because in Hathian, ‘anything’ often involves a dramatic injury, a questionable fashion choice, and a conspiracy theory all rolled into one.
Upstairs, they have bunks, an office, a classroom, and the mess. Apparently, most firefighters prefer to commute now though, probably to avoid the nightly symphony of sirens.
My ambulance ride-along itself was surprisingly dull. Maybe Hathian was taking a collective ‘chill’ pill. Or maybe everyone was just too busy admiring Velma’s emblem.
But really, these guys are essential! They’re also chronically understaffed, so if you’re looking for a job where you can save lives and ponder the deeper meaning of firefighter pin-up art, contact the HFD. Just, maybe don’t stare too long at Velma’s door, it’s creepy!
