About twenty minutes ago, I was slammed out of sleep. Arm twisted, drool-pooling, rapid eye movement, sound sleep.
By a fire alarm. A very loud, highly insistant fire alarm complete with computerized voice calling out instructions.
Remembering the building fire of two years ago (which I wasn’t actually here for, but heard lots about from my then boyfriend who happened to be sleeping in the apartment that night), I grabbed a sweat shirt, my cell phone and my bag before heading for the fire stairs. I almost brought my laptop, but decided that I didn’t feel like schlepping it. Following the directions that “the voice” recited repeatedly, I took a seat in the stairwell (with my new, very cute, young-for-the-building neighbor) and waiting for the all clear signal.
After 10 minutes, “the voice” announced that it had been declared fine and that we could go back to our apartments.
I resent the lost sleep, but at least I finally met the cute neighbor. Although, if the state of his wakefulness is any indication, he probably won’t remember.