Of all the times I’ve pictured an arsonist trying to blow up the building I live in, when it actually happened in the early hours of Monday morning, it went way differently than I’d thought it would. Likely because until this week, I don’t think I’d ever even considered it. And my nickname is “Hypochondriac-Overthinker-Master Worrier-What’s The Worst That Can Possibly Happen And Let Me Top It In My Imagination” . Which, I realize, is a longish nickname.
Most people in Los Angeles were really on edge this past week. Especially the folks who live in West Hollywood and Hollywood, the areas that seemed to be the focus for the arsonist. That’s where I live. My building has carports. Actually there’s an entire alleyway with a very long row of apartment building carports. Arsonist Asshole (the most PG of nicknames I am willing to give him) was pretty focused on carports. In LA, living in an apartment building with any kind of covered parking space is a total score. Usually. Except for roughly 53 times out of all other times.
I had been sleeping for 45 minutes to an hour when I was suddenly awoken at about 1:15am Monday morning. It was one of those jarring wake ups where you just sit right up in bed. It’s easier for me to imitate the sound that I heard, but I’m going to try to describe it. The noise sounded like a mixture of when a horse does that air blowing simultaneous snort thing combined with a continuous shuffling scraping type of sound. But the initial sound was a pop. Not the big cliffhanger TV episode explosion sound (the only kind of explosion sound I’ve been hip to before Monday). It was more of a pop that stayed open. Obviously, my future is in becoming a professional fire noises describer.
So, in the next 2-3 seconds, I remember thinking, “No way. That sound is not ‘that’ sound. You know you’re just being paranoid. But, what the hell is that sound? What are you gonna do, Jill, pull on your Uggs and run out back? You don’t have the right TV robe, the kind that people throw on to run outside in the middle of the night.” But, and like I said, it was just a matter of seconds that these thoughts were running through my head when I heard a guy scream, “FIRE!!!!” I jumped up, pulled on the Uggs, grabbed my iPhone and my laptop (I was the only dork with my laptop outside, but in my defense, both my phone and my laptop were in my bed) and ran outside. By this time, I was hearing a bunch of different people shouting, “FIRE!!!” But realized that no one from my apartment building seemed to be coming down. So I ran upstairs and banged on everyone’s door yelling, “FIRE!!!” It felt very The Jerk. Except different. Because there really was a fire. And no Navin R. Johnson. And no dog that should be named either ‘Lifesaver’ or ‘Shithead’, depending on who you talked to.
When I got downstairs, I walked toward our carport area to see where exactly the fire was. It wasn’t my car. Of our 8 carport parking spaces that are opposite of each other, The Asshole Arsonist had chosen 1 of the 2 carports that are physically connected to our apartment building. To do the most damage and, I guess, in hopes of the fire spreading to the apartment building. My bedroom is on the other side of the carport he chose. It’s literally a shared wall. The head of my bed is up against that wall. My pillows. Where I was sleeping. The other side of that wall was on fire. The explosion that woke me was right behind my head.
The fire department and police response was unbelievable. So fast. After they’d been there for about a half hour, half of them ran to their trucks to move on to the other fires that were happening in quick succession. It was a really frightening thing to watch these amazingly brave and talented firefighters be as on the ball as they were and to simultaneously see the frustration and the sort of ‘WTF?!’ in their faces as they had to race off to not just another but multiple fires. And this was day 4 for them. But thankfully, LAFD and all of the departments and task forces who worked together on this, kick some serious ass. Some serious Asshole Arsonist ass.
As it turns out, my apartment smoked up quite a bit. Due to the shared wall. A super hot fireman was lovely enough to come into my apartment with me to see what he might be able to do to help. I might be gay, but I’m not dead. I think it’s everyone’s duty to invite a fireman into their bedroom if they have the opportunity. While he opened certain windows and placed some fans, I apologized for my bedroom being messy and he goes, “Please! (and glanced down at himself) Look at me!” The guy looked like a calendar. I told him he was in his hot fireman work outfit. Which might have been the first time someone’s referred to the yellow gear as an outfit. And then we made love for hours. We didn’t. Or, did we? We didn’t. But it was fun to have a hot fireman in my bedroom at 2:30am. Even if it was for fire reasons.
At the end of the day, and I mean that literally as I was up for 24 hours straight after the Asshole Arsonist set that car on fire at my building … I really wanted to write a little something about it. Reason being, I feel so very grateful. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I’m in the best mood I can remember being in. I cannot keep thinking about what a close call that was for me and for everyone in this building. And for everyone in every building that had a fire this past week. I just keep staring at my bedroom wall with wave after wave of shock and awe and gratitude washing over me. It’s literally overwhelming. I’ve cried a few times when I had no idea I was about to cry. I mean, on the other side of where I was sleeping, basically right at my head, a car exploded. By someone’s choice.
(Photo by: Jill Kushner)
Duuuude. Glad to hear you’re okay! I live in WeHo, and I had a bunch of people (none of them from LA, interestingly enough) ask me if my apartment (which sits directly atop a (gated, thankfully) carport) was at risk, and I kept saying, “No, of course not, calm down Mom” (she may or may not have been half of that bunch), as if it wasn’t even a possibility. I knew that all of these fires were happening close by, but it didn’t even really register…and then when they caught Arsonist Asshole, he was exactly one block away from my apartment building, and I suddenly realized that maybe I should have spent the weekend feeling a little more on edge. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to hear a car exploding next to my head or people screaming “FIRE” to come to that realization. Super glad that they caught the douchebag. LA: never not an adventure.
thank you!!! my mom’s the same.
yup, they not only caught him right in our hood but he lived right by us, as well. not anymore.
The same thing happened to me in 05. My neighbor’s disgruntled employee blew up his truck and somehow everyone in my house slept through the explosion! I woke up to people pounding on my door and a glowing orange bedroom. It was scary but you’re right, it’s an amazing feeling afterwards to be so grateful to be alive. I’m glad to hear you’re okay!
Oh and I’ve dated my share of firemen =)
I’m glad your story had a good ending, too. And I’m glad that you date firemen.
Glad you are OK! I’m keeping all the arson victims in my thoughts. My parents are about 2 weeks from being in their new house after a fire last April, started by the dryer or wiring – depends who you ask. Luckily my mom was home and the Fire Dept is just a few short blocks away. My mom lost nearly EVERY piece of clothing she had. Three rooms were a total loss, it was just a bit too far gone to fix so it was decided to just put a new house on the property. Most of what was lost was just stuff… important things were in different areas of the house. To think that someone would start a fire on purpose… when I think about how I could’ve lost my parents… ugh.
Although… I do like a good lookin fireman
Yes, we talk about all the funny little things that lined up just right in this bad situation. Certain doors were closed, she already had her cell phone on her and glasses (she was getting ready for work) We keep joking with my Mom she wanted to redo the kitchen and bathroom anyway
I’m hoping she invites some of the firemen to the houswarming party after they move in!
Wow. Your parents got very lucky! Such a pain to have to replace things and/or rebuild. But in the end, the ONLY thing that matters are the people. And the good looking firemen.
Is it crazy that I’m considering lighting my bedroom on fire just so I can get a hot fireman in here? And, also, I’m happy to hear you didn’t die!
Ha!!!! Not as crazy as the guy who set this one!!!! And thanks, I’m happy I didn’t die, too!!
such a crazy story! glad you’re okay! and what’s that fireman’s name and number!
Ha! Thanks, Foster! xo
Wow! This gave me the chills and made me quite nauseated. How terrifying! And good on you too for going back in to knock on doors, dude. I am TERRIFIED of fire (I was 2 years old when my house was hit by lightning, and the smoke detector burst into flames above my head in the hall… now = phobia of both fire AND smoke detectors…I can’t even LOOK at them when I’m trying to sleep without nightmares).. I would have been running down the street with my computer and phone and hiding and having a panic attack. So good job! And I’m SO glad you are okay. What a fucking bastard. I hope they catch this guy and SOON.
phobia of smoke detectors….aw! that me smile in a not-making-fun-of-you-endearing kind of way.
That must’ve been awful! One of my BFFs lives in North Hollywood and her carport was on fire, as well. It sucked.
Some week, right, Elisabeth!?!? Thanks for commenting!! I appreciate it!
What a terrible thing to have to go through. So glad you’re okay.
Thank you, Liz!!!!!!
So scary! Glad you’re okay!
Thanks so much, Rachael!
I hate him so much!!!
We will discuss our mutual hatred of him at brunch!