I was in my 20’s when my life changed in an instant. That’s how it happens, right? In an instant.
This week marks an anniversary of a horrific fire—when a neighbor died and I came close. I was asleep in my century-old Manhattan apartment and awoke at 3:00 a.m. choking on smoke.
I got my deep-sleeping roommate out the fire escape but stupidly ran back to my room to throw on clothes. Then I was trapped.
Consumed by smoke I leaned out the window and yelled to the FDNY below, “Is the fire in my apartment?” They didn’t know, but wanted me out—NOW. From below came my instructions: climb out on the 6" sill, turn around (rear to the sky), grab hold of the brick facade and dangle my feet off the ledge.
A ladder came up to meet my feet. Small aside here: NYC fire ladders only go as high as seven floors and I was on the seventh—the tippy top of the first rung. I gingerly climbed down as glass was breaking from the heat in my face and flames were lapping inches away.
I hyperventilated my way to the bottom and then spent a year rebuilding everything I had. But life goes on and I moved on. Met my love, changed careers, grew up.
Life lesson: Fear is real but can be overcome, or at least processed. Something to keep in mind as we worry about what comes next...
Addendum:
Here’s what I couldn’t fit into that 1,300-character limit story above: the fire was arson; I lost nearly everything I owned; what didn’t get ruined by fire, smoke or water was stolen by opportunists; I exited that window over Lexington Avenue and 85th street with no clothes on and a bathrobe in my hand that I didn’t have time to put on during my quick exit; it was bitterly cold that night; my neighbor who couldn’t get out and died was a professional stunt man; besides smoke inhalation, my only real injury came when I stepped off the bottom rung of the ladder and fell off the top of the fire engine; I was one of the few in the building who actually had renter’s insurance; and dozens and dozens of strangers and friends came to help me in a million little ways in the hours/days/weeks/months after the fire and I’ve never forgotten their generosity. I’ve spent the past several decades trying to be as generous to others as they were to me. And when all was said and done, many months later, I moved back into that same apartment because I loved it despite its many flaws. That seems to be a running theme in my life. There’s more, but I’m saving it for my book…