Finally, a new drill in a sea of same-old, same-old. When our training officer isn’t feeling “inspired”, our drills tend to run to…take the trucks out, tap a couple of hydrants, do the inspections, run the equipment, wash the rigs and call it a night.

There’s nothing wrong with that, per se, it’s just that when you’ve done that three or four drills in a row, you’d almost rather have a cleaning drill (and I always end up doing the bathrooms on those nights…ewwww….shudder…..can someone explain to me how a “urinal cake” is somehow considered sanitary????).

There are positives to it, we’re getting seriously good at speedy hydrant hookups, and if there’s anyone who shows up regularly to drill who doesn’t know the whereabouts and functions of all the equipment on the trucks, then they’re talented somnambulists.

This week was Search and Rescue. I’ve had some limited experience with it, but not completely blinded. Last time was in the DOT offices and we suffused the building with smoke, but you could still make out some dim shapes here and there. This time, we cleared the apparatus bay and opened up two rooms off the bay and were going blind via Nomex.

Teams of two, packed up and on air, with our Nomex hoods turned around on the outside of our masks. Talk about flying blind. The line officers hid a body at some point in the search radius, and the evolution ended with the location of the body and an initial attempt at dragging the victim clear.

I was paired up with one of the Juniors. For those who don’t read my blogs regularly (for SHAME….lol) I refer to all the members of our department between the ages of 16-25 as “Junior” because I legitimately can’t remember their names. It’s nothing personal. I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast most days.

So we get all packed up and I look at “Junior” ….(this is pre-putting on the Nomex hoods backwards) and he’s visibly swallowing and acting all herky-jerky in general….So I ask him “You want me to take the lead?” and he was all over that like white on rice. And I thought I got nervous about the unknowns in drill. I looked like the Snow Queen comparatively speaking.

We drop our hoods and drop to our knees. It’s going to be a follow-the-hose Search and Rescue—through the bay, the equipment room and the kitchen …again, as soon as the body was located and dragged five feet, the evolution was complete.

My first-due Captain has a sense of humor. More on that in a moment….

We start to follow the hose, and Junior is on me like a hungry tick on a bloated canine….he’s so far up my butt I’m thinking he could probably tell me what I had for lunch (ewwww…sorry……ewwww) so I turn back and yell “Could you back up just a smidge???” because he has a death grip on my left boot and I feel like I’m dragging him with me. He replies back with …”I (unintelligible) ….ok?” …I reply…”Whatever….just back off a little”. Off we go….I’m calling back descriptions and locations of everything that I’m encountering….big arm sweeps all around…and we’re in some pretty tight territory.

Then the brooms fell.

I was scooting along…calling out to any potential victims, communicating with my team member (who by now is SERIOUSLY irritating me, because he’s all OVER my back end and leg and not communicating back….I might as well have had a 150 pound dead chicken in turnout gear behind me….) and I do a floor sweep with my arm and CRASH!!!!!! All of our brooms and mops fall down on top of me. Cue the laughter from the assembled crowds of witnesses….and a mumbled "oops" from my Lt.

Right…so about my Captain……I finally find the “body”. We have a few members who could stand to miss a meal or ten…and this was one of them. I hook my hands under his SCBA straps….and heave….and we move an inch. I have to haul this guy five FEET???? Are you kidding me???

I turn around and tell the Dead Chicken to help me and all I get back is ………_______________. Flat line. Nada. Nothing. If it weren’t for the stranglehold on my boot, I would have thought he took off and was enjoying a beverage at the bar. Two feet later and I start letting the F-bombs rip. Still blinded…I give the entire room (all of whom are audibly laughing at this point) the middle finger salute, find an adrenaline reserve and haul him the remaining three feet.

When I took my helmet and mask off, my hair looked like Don King’s and my shirt and pants were completely sweat-soaked and stuck to me in some mighty uncomfortable places. And Junior? He was gone, baby, gone right after drill. But at least I’ll remember his name for next time….Dead-Weight.

Until next time…stay safe, wear your seatbelt.