Fire

So, 2 years and 9 months ago I was on my "Grand Adventure" exploring Korea after a week in Japan reuniting with Plume dormmates. Three month prior to that though, I was in the middle of an inferno that cut through the orchid farm. And I guess being the three year anniversary, now seems like a good time to post about it. Why post about it three years later? you might ask. Well, at the time I was also still focused/ overwhelmed with getting everything together for my "Grand Adventure" trip. Besides, an anniversary seems like a good time to talk about something. Also, when I close my eyes I can't immediately pull-up images of smoke choking a red-tinted sky, or flames marching toward me.

My dad and I were working in one of the fields right before lunch when we smelled the smoke. It was a hot, dry summer and a windy day. We spotted white smoke coming from the property above us further up the mountain. We hoped it was someone burning rubbish but then the flames crossed over a hill, the smoke turning black as it burned through so much dry brush and grass so quickly. We ended up wetting as much of the property line as possible with a bunch of garden hoses connected together. The fire came too fast though and soon the air filled with smoke that almost blacked-out the sun as the sky itself took on a reddish-hue. If you're wondering about any pictures or videos, sorry, I don't have any as I really didn't want to be one of those people that die attempting to get a cool picture or video to post on Facebook.

Together, the two of us made as many passes as we could before the smoke choked our lungs. Exhausted, we headed into the house to rest, knowing the fire outside would burn because that's what fire does, and that we'd soon go back out there because that was all there was to do. At this point, the fire was much closer than when we started, sitting at the property line and threatening soon to jump over. I grabbed the van keys and all my stuff, and insisted we should leave, just abandon the cause, throw the dog into the van, and get the hell out of here. When I asked earlier, my dad said we should stay, believing we could stop it at the property line. Again, he declined, this time because "There's no where to go." At this point we had no idea how far down the mountain the fire had spread, if it was already covering the single road in and out or knocked anything across it. We wouldn't be able to see more than five to ten feet ahead through the smoke. There was a part of me in there though that was screaming, "Fuck that. I've been driving this road every weekend since I was in high school. I could make it blindfolded." But we stayed.

At this point in our story, you're probably thinking, "Alan, come on, where are all those jokes about death that you like to throw out there?" Well, welcome to that section of our story. Of course as I'm sitting there, my mind drifts to the realm of "you could fucking die here." Unlike the movies though my brain didn't bring up loved ones I'll never see again or flashback through my entire life. Instead (and no, I'm not making this up for the post as I'm simply re-writing this from a journal entry I did that night) I was disappointed that I'd never get to see the conclusion to Avengers: Infinity War - and that was it. I might've tried to think about other regrets but really that was just it. Maybe because I wasn't dead yet so there really wasn't a point to worrying about anything real or of substance yet. To jump ahead for a moment (spoiler: I survived) two of my cousins came up the next day to help with the damage. When I told them that my biggest fear from yesterday was burning alive, one of my cousins reported that it probably wasn't that bad depending on how you did it, I guess (he's a doctor he has a doctorate). Supposedly the fire and heat should quickly overload the pain sensors near the top of your skin and render you unconscious. So maybe you'll die of shock or just be unconscious until the fire eventually kills you. Either way, you won't spend an eternity in agony as your skin turns extra crispy. The thing though is that you really need to commit to it, just go right into the flames and hang in there until you're gone.

Back to the house, I was recovering and coughing up what I was sure was my lungs while my dad went back out to man the hose again. After a little while, the smoke thickened and the fires now burned in the yard to one side of the house and in the fields on the other side. I ran outside and started yelling into the smoke. For awhile, there wasn't an answer. I continued screaming, going as close to the flames as I'd dare. Eventually I heard his voice though it would still be another few seconds before he emerged, hacking and coughing as I had been. He handed off the hose and instructed me on where to go while he went into the house. The fire had moved over the property line and was well into the farm by now. With the hose in hand, I was basically just doing hot-spot maintenance, hitting the areas that the fire burned but might come back.

I guess it's at this point that I should give a shout-out/ thank you to Tom Cruise. No, not for any firefighting movies he's done (has he done any?). Earlier in the day we watched Edge of Tomorrow, that one where he fights aliens by reliving the day in a time loop. As I'm soaking as much of the flames as possible, I kept hoping for the fire department to eventually show up and take over as this should be a job for professionals, not some dumbass like me. It's not like bagging my own groceries in the check-out line. Then, the scene from the movie just came to me. It's that part where Cruise's character is first strapped into the mech and he tells the other guy that he's never been in a mech before. The other character just responds with "Yeah, well I've never been with two girls at the same time before. But you can bet when that day comes, I'll make it work." And that line kinda just became my mantra through the rest of the day, just repeating it over and over to get me through the shit.

The fires eventually moved their way passed us/ through us. There was nothing we could do about the fields. The only good thing being the very flammable netting above the fields (orchids don't do well in direct sunlight) and high winds that moved the fire along rather quickly. It probably would've been worse if the fires spread downward to the plants and wooden benches and PVC piping carrying our water. We kept soaking different areas where the flames seemed to keep re-igniting themselves. It was here that I got to fulfill every guy's fantasy - pissing out a fire. Well, close enough. I came across a spot that was smoldering and every so often flames would jump from it. Something to note first: I'd been walking, dragging close to six hoses connected together for hours now. I was exhausted, dehydrated, still a little scared that I would die, plus the hose I was pulling had several leaks in it that soaked my pants all day. Also, I'm not a complete idiot, I'm not going to be putting my exposed dick anywhere near an open flame. That said, at one point while it was just a trail of smoke rising from the pile of wreckage, I put the hose down, unzipped and went to work. Now with all those factors I mentioned working against me, I will admit it wasn't a good showing, but I think I got the job done. This was also about the time that I was working up the courage to apologize to my dad for letting fear get the better of me and trying to bitch out of the task at hand. Everything turned out as best it could and we survived. So obviously he had the right idea to stay. Before I could say anything though he just offhandedly remarked "You know, if I was a smarter we would've left a long time ago." And now I'm thinking "well what the hell am I supposed to do with that, to take away from this experience?" And to this day I'm still trying to process it.

Oh, and if you were wondering, I got some pictures of the aftermath