I’ve had enough emergency calls for one week. Thursday morning, I walked out of the house with the kids, and, as I got them in the car, I smelled natural gas. It was faint, but I smelled it. The whole neighborhood has gas heat, so it could have been coming from anywhere. Just to be safe, I called 911 from the car. “Stay there,” they said. “We’ll meet you there.” Really? I thought. I’ve got to get these kids to school. Crap.
A few minutes later, a fire truck pulled up, sirens blaring, my daughter asking, “Is that them?” Not thinking it was a siren kind of emergency, I said no, but I was wrong. Clad in full gear, the firemen came walking up, “Did you call?”