Barney Fife

So there was a fire last week up on the tenth floor. Space heater or some such thing caught fire. I was passing through the courtyard on my way out to go home and I was smelling smoke. When I got upstairs I was discussing the smell with my relief and debating whether or not to call the fire department when a fire truck goes rolling past. I flagged them down. They went sniffing around in the basement and waved their flashlights all over and then went up to the roof to check things out, waking up the president of the Co-Op board in the process, and leaving me feeling like Barney F-ing Fife.

Because there was no fire.